


Redemption Chronicles: Part Two - Rehtanna

by AustralianRanger012



Series: Mercy-Verse [7]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AustralianRanger012/pseuds/AustralianRanger012
Summary: Continuation of Anavatyar, Part Two of Redemption Chronicles. Mairon continues his journey towards redemption and healing under Lord Námo's Care. However, not everyone in Valinor is pleased the former chief servant of the Dark Lord is being given a second chance instead of being punished, and decide to take matters into their own hands...*Mercy-Verse*
Relationships: Canonical relationships - Relationship
Series: Mercy-Verse [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1008981
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	1. Interlude

**Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. I own only my OC's and ideas.**

A huge Thanks to CoffeeRanger for all her invaluable help with all aspects of this story. Notes at the bottom. This follows on directly from Part One - Anavatyar

**Rehtanna**

**Continuation of** **Anavatyar, Part Two of Redemption Chronicles. Mairon continues his journey towards redemption and healing under Lord N** **ámo's Care. However, not everyone in Valinor if pleased the former chief servant of the Dark Lord is being given a second chance instead of being punished, and decide to take matters into their own hands...**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Interlude**

* * *

Námo's lips twitched. Catching his wife's eyes, the Vala of the Dead spoke via ósanwe.

*They look comfortable.*

Vairë silently laughed.

*Indeed. I'm tempted to join them myself.*

Námo nodded in agreement, observing the puppy pile of sleeping Maiar, a smile gracing his lips. They were laying cuddled together in a big heap, wrapped up in blankets and pillows he recognised as having come from Mandos. Eönwë was flat out on his stomach in the middle of the pile. His huge gold wings stretched out, covering some of the others like a blanket. Ilmarë cuddled into his right side; Olórin lay directly to his left. Next to Olórin, Mairon slept with Marta lying practically on his face; he was cuddled between his brother and Marilwë. Astarion lay near them; arms wrapped around their older sister. Liltára slept in between them, her arms wrapped around both her younger siblings.

Tavaril was sleeping to Ilmarë's right, cuddling up to Lómindil; Urunírë was on his right. Elenfirië was near Ilmarë, snugly sheltered under Eönwë's wing. Calimandil, the only one of Vairë's Maiar who'd decided to camp out, was lying near Urunírë. While he was one of the few to not be at least partially sheltered by Eönwë's wing, he was wrapped up cosily in several blankets. As was Aulë's former chief. In fact, they were all wrapped up snugly in thick blankets. So snugly, in fact, it was difficult to differentiate where one Maia ended and the next began.

Vairë smiled at Námo.

*I had my doubts camping in this weather would be pleasant, but they certainly seem to be enjoying themselves. It might be just what they all need to unwind.*

The Doomsman agreed.

*Yes. Though it's not that cold out, all things considered. We haven't had any frosts in several weeks. And they certainly have enough blankets and pillows to make things comfortable. Even if we do get a late one.*

Vairë shook her head in bemusement.

*I wonder where they all came from?*

Námo gave her a mental smirk.

*I'm sure I have no idea. Though I suspect we might find several of the sitting rooms in Mandos are missing a few blankets.*

Vairë looked amused.

*At least they're warm enough. Eärwá's response when she heard what was happening was to tell them they were idiots, and not to expect sympathy from her when they froze to death and ended up in Mandos.*

Námo's aura brightened in amusement.

*She would say that. I guess that's why only one of yours decided to camp out. Though I understand more are coming up tomorrow for the hike they've planned.*

Vairë went back to watching the Maiar, smiling at Eönwë's soft snores.

*I'm glad Manwë agreed to let Eönwë have a break from teaching the Edain.*

Námo agreed.

*Me to. While he's doing an admirable job with them, he still needs to spend time with his own kind, free of responsibilities. And having him here serves as a great discouragement to any whom might seek to do Mairon harm while he's away from the safety of Mandos. It was a good idea of yours, my beloved.*

Vairë smiled.

*Of course it was good. It was _my_ idea.*

Námo looked rueful.

*I can't argue with that logic.*

Vairë laughed, wrapping her fëa around his. They were both unclad and cloaked, completely hidden from the sense of any Maiar whom might be around.

*The Maiar may live to serve us, but they still need time to play, and have fun. We all do. No one can work all the time. Even we must take time off occasionally to properly function.*

Námo sighed.

*A lesson Urunírë is having trouble accepting. I had a long talk with him yesterday, before they set out. I'm meeting with Manwë tomorrow to discuss a few issues that need addressing.*

Vairë looked at her husband in concern. She recognised that tone of voice.

*Who is soon to face the Wrath of Mandos?*

Námo's thoughts were closed to her when he replied.

*I'm afraid I can't tell you, not right now. I need to know more first. And I must see Manwë before I can even begin to try and understand the issues that are rife among the Maiar. Issues that have sailed under our notice up to now.*

Vairë sighed.

*That does not sound good.*

Námo sighed.

*It's not.*

Looking at the puppy pile of happy Maiar to help calm his turbulent thoughts, the Doomsman cuddled into his wife. Ruefully, Námo thought back on the interesting conversation he'd had with Urunírë the previous day.

* * *

_Previous day._

Námo looked up at the knock on his study door.

"Come in."

Urunírë entered, giving Námo his obeisance (he wasn't yet comfortable foregoing doing this, and Námo wasn't going to push him) before coming to stand in front of his desk.

"You called for me, my lord?"

Urunírë's tone was respectful, his posture relaxed and unforced, awaiting patiently for Námo to acknowledge his words. He'd only been with Námo a few months, and already the Vala could see the positive change in his behaviour. It helped the Maia was genuinely remorseful for what he'd done, and amenable to learning what Námo deigned to teach him.

It was always easier when your charges worked with you, rather than hating your guts.

"Yes, I did. I have a few things I want to run by you. Please sit, make yourself comfortable. We may be here for a while. Help yourself to some miruvórë if you wish. There's plenty."

Námo gestured to the carafe sitting on a small table with a single goblet. Smiling in delight (the Maiar didn't often get to have the cordial outside of special occasions), Urunírë carefully poured himself some, before sitting down on the main lounge. Námo left his desk to sit on the lounge directly opposite him, a goblet of miruvórë appearing in his own hand.

Námo watched in loving amusement as Urunírë took a sip of his cordial, humming happily and closing his eyes in delight as he savoured the taste. The Doomsman disapproved of the fact the Maiar could generally only taste the drink on very special occasions. While he didn't believe it should become part of their everyday diet (even the Valar didn't drink it all the time) he felt they should be permitted more access to it than they were.

So far, however, Manwë did not agree. Námo wondered, when he finally presented all his findings about this Situation to their King, if that would change.

Probably not. At least, not immediately. Manwë was inclined to be thick-headed with ideas that weren't his own...

"Urunírë. I have a few questions I want your honest answer to. I'll not judge you for what you say, and you won't be punished in any way for any opinion you may hold. Do you understand, my son?"

The Maia looked at his lord in surprise, nodding without hesitation.

"I'll do my best to help you, my lord."

Námo looked pensive.

"Why do you think you are weak and worthless to us?"

Urunírë, having just taken a sip of his cordial, promptly suffered a choking fit. Námo lent over and placed a hand on him, and the coughs subsided. Looking at the Vala with watery eyes, Urunírë spoke in a hoarse voice.

"W-Where did you hear that?"

Námo's expression didn't change.

"It's my job to hear things. I have my ways of finding out information. Can you deny what I've said is not the truth, at least on some level?"

Urunírë looked down, shaking his head. His voice was soft.

"No."

Námo's tone and posture were gentle.

"Can you explain to me why you feel this way? I sincerely hope I've never done anything to indicate this to you, because nothing could be further from the truth. You're special beyond measure to me; to all of us. Yet, I know you doubt your own worth. I'd like to know why."

The Maia glanced up. Seeing the love in Námo's posture steadied him, and he subconsciously licked his lips as he put his thoughts in order. The Vala waited patiently, encouraging him to take sips of his cordial. Finally, when he felt ready, Urunírë made eye contact with his current lord.

"You – You've never made me feel that way, my lord. Since coming to you, I've never felt more loved or wanted. But-but…not everyone holds the same views you do."

Námo said nothing, only nodding to the Maia to continue. Urunírë complied without hesitation this time.

"You don't, but the others…often succeed in making us feel like second-class citizens. Or even third-class. Sometimes, I feel the elves are more important to the Valar than we are. They – They always have priority when they want to see you. Whereas even I, as the chief – well, former chief – of Lord Aulë's Maiar, often had to wait for my lord's convenience when I wanted to see him."

Námo frowned to himself, though his outer expression remained unchanged.

"We are responsible for all Eä. Sometimes things require our full attention for a time. I know there are times when I'm unavailable, even to look after the fëar. That's just the way it is."

Urunírë nodded.

"I know that. But…when several of us were concerned over Melkor being allowed to go free. Several of us observed what was happening between him and the Noldor elves, but we were powerless to do anything. After what had already happened, we weren't brave enough to go to anyone with our concerns. We all knew they would most likely be brushed aside, and disregarded. Like earlier ones had been. Many of us were hurt over that, and then when the trees happened…" Tears gathered in Urunírë's eyes. "We were once again powerless to do anything. And no one asked for our help or opinion. We wanted to help, but no one let us. We wanted to know what was happening, but we were kept in the dark, both physically and metaphorically. Many of us felt we were not needed by the Valar during that time. That we were too weak and useless to be of much use when real danger threatened."

Urunírë looked down.

"Our feelings of worthlessness – kind of grew from that. And that idea has been enforced several times since."

Námo closed his eyes in pain.

"You are not worthless or useless, Urunírë. I – Manwë will be the first to admit he was biased when it came to his brother. Yours wasn't the only advice he ignored; and the rest of us were not much better at times. And I've never thought any of you useless or worthless. Nor has Vairë. I can't speak for any of the others, but I'm sure they don't either. You're all special to us."

Urunírë just shook his head, a tear running down his cheek.

"L-Lady Nessa said we were weak."

Námo remained calm through sheer willpower, not letting on how much this confession disturbed him.

"Why do you say that?"

Urunírë looked up at Námo. The sheer hopelessness in his eyes tore at the Vala's heart.

"Úrinárë overheard it being said. I don't know the specifics; but he was pretty upset when he told me."

Námo looked grave, yet his voice was gentle.

"When was this?"

Urunírë swallowed.

"Four solar years ago? I think? It was just after the War ended, when we came back here."

Námo internally frowned. That would certainly explain a lot that had happened recently...

"What did Nessa say? Can you remember, exactly?"

Urunírë thought hard.

"I don't remember exactly what he said he heard, but it was along the lines of 'the Maiar are weaker than us. We must make allowances for that'. Úrinárë said she was talking to someone at the time, but he couldn't see who. It was clear he wasn't supposed to overhear the conversation, so was too scared to go to any of you about it. That's why he came to me. He wasn't intentionally eavesdropping. He'd been sent to take a message to the Lord Tulkas from our lord. Please don't punish him..."

Námo was already shaking his head.

"Your brother has done nothing deserving punishment. Neither of you have. You have no control over the opinions of others. Especially among us Valar. However, I do. And I will get to the bottom of this. In the meantime," Námo gave his Maia a loving look. "Come here, my son."

Urunírë instantly obeyed, before melting into Námo's embrace with a deep sigh. Námo allowed it for a time, before his expression turned grave.

"Urunírë. I have something I want to say to you, and I want you to listen carefully. You aren't as strong as us Valar; that is true. However, there's no reason to be ashamed or feel inadequate because of what you are. _Atar_ designed you the way you are for a reason. He gave you your own strengths and weaknesses, just like he did with us Valar. While we _are_ inherently more powerful, that doesn't make you weak. Far from it. You and your brethren constantly amaze me at the inner strength and will you exhibit in everything. You are strong in ways that go far beyond mere power levels."

Urunírë looked up at Námo with an unreadable expression.

"What sort of inner strength? I'm not strong. I try to be, but…"

Námo's expression softened even further.

"The inner strength you have displayed ever since coming to serve me. You came in here with your head held high, despite the fact you were in deep shock. You demonstrated dignity at your trial, despite the stressful circumstances. You have been working on making the best of your situation here, and I know it has been difficult for you. You believed what Úrinárë heard, didn't you?"

Urunírë nodded wordlessly into his chest. Námo sighed.

"It's not true. At least, not in the way you have taken it. Being weaker in power and strength does not _make_ you weak. You Maiar were designed to be exactly how you are."

Urunírë sighed heavily.

"Why?"

Námo looked at the top of his head.

"Why what?"

The Maia swallowed.

"Why were we designed to be weak?"

Námo's expression sobered.

"You're not weak. Why do you think you are designed the way you are? If you don't know, that is okay. But, I want an honest answer."

Urunírë thought for a good while, before finally shaking his head.

"I don't know. Why, my lord?" He asked humbly. He felt Námo's approval at his admittance he didn't know something, and savoured that feeling as Námo started speaking.

"You were designed the way you are to teach us Valar a lesson. Several lessons in fact. Lessons we tend to be slow in learning."

Urunírë sat up in surprise, staring at Námo with big eyes.

"Really?"

Námo almost smiled.

"Yes. While _Atar_ intended for us Valar to have stewardship over Eä, he knew we wouldn't be able to do it alone. That's where you and your brethren come in. Without you, we wouldn't have been able to do half the things we have done since coming to Eä."

Giving the wide-eyed Maia a loving look, Námo continued.

"Your help has been invaluable for every moment since we left the Timeless Halls. But it's not supposed to be a one-way street. _Atar_ intended for us to love and serve you, just as he intended for you to love and serve us."

Urunírë swallowed.

"How are you supposed to serve us?"

Námo smiled at the Maia.

"We're to serve you by loving and protecting you from that which would seek to harm you. And from simply looking after you. I feel great joy being able to do anything for any one of you, even if it's simply giving you a hug when you feel down. In this way, _Atar's_ design in me is completed."

Urunírë thought that over.

"What about the others? I – have never felt more wanted since coming to you, but the others don't give me that feeling."

"I presume you mean the other Valar?"

Urunírë nodded hesitantly. "Yes."

Námo kept his opinions to himself, even as he answered the Maia.

"I will look into it, and see if I can't discover what's happening. I want you to know, however, that I have _never_ viewed you, or any of your brethren, as anything other than precious children we have been blessed with to love and serve. I know Vairë feels the same. I'm sure the others do as well, and this is all a misunderstanding."

Urunírë sighed, closing his eyes as he basked in his lord's embrace.

"I hope you're right, my lord."

Námo hoped so as well, even though he had a sinking feeling this was slightly more than a misunderstanding. Not that he was about to tell Urunírë that.

"I'm always right. Eventually. Now, finish up your miruvórë. There's still some left, which will never do."

Urunírë easily complied, enjoying every drop of the cordial. Námo made a mental note to see a couple of flasks were included in the supplies for their camping trip. Everyone would enjoy sipping it around the campfire at the end of the day. Having made that decision, Námo turned his attention to other matters.

While he was quick to reassure Urunírë all was well, he was very worried about all he'd just learnt. He needed to see Manwë. And then have a nice little chat with Nessa to find out exactly what she'd said, and to whom.

And he had to do it soon. He doubted Urunírë was the only one who was affected in this way, especially seeing Úrinárë was the one who had first overheard this. Who knew who else had overheard similar things, and how it had affected them, and their sense of worth?

And he'd seen what had happened when Mairon had doubted his worth to his original lord, all those _yéni_ ago.

Desperation could drive a Maia to do things beyond reason, as they searched for love and appreciation from the Valar. A love and appreciation that should be theirs by right. But apparently wasn't.

Yes, Námo would be having a nice little chat with Manwë as soon as the Elder King was available.

* * *

**END OF CHAPTER 1**

**Rehtanna - To Rescue (Roughly. I needed a different name for each part)**

* * *

A/N

Well, I'm still alive. Somehow. Between mental health spiralling end of last year, and now all this quarantine stuff, I haven't been in the best place the last few months. Hardly writing anything. I'm working on me, but this part of the story is finished, so I'm setting myself the goal of at least finishing the editing and posting it. I know so many are waiting very patiently, and I want to let you guys know I am still here! I'll be trying to update every two to three days. If i don't, please spam me with PM's or reviews. Part 2 is all written, just needs a final proof and then be posted. I've procrastinated on this long enough I feel.


	2. Discussions among the Valar

**Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. I own only my OC's and ideas.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Discussions among the Valar**

"So, that is what's happening right now."

Námo looked at Manwë, whose expression ranged somewhere between horrified, angry, sad, and disbelieving. Námo said nothing, waiting for his older brother in the thought of Ilúvatar to speak. After a prolonged silence, Manwë did.

"This is not good."

Námo raised an eyebrow, otherwise keeping his countenance neutral. He said nothing, however, waiting for the Elder King to voice his thoughts on the matter.

"I have trouble believing one of us would say something like that. The Maiar are anything but weak."

Námo nodded.

"Yes, but the point is, Nessa did say something to that effect. Whether it was meant the way it was taken, remains to be seen. But, the damage is already done. Who knows how many among the Maiar have heard similar things, and even now think themselves worthless? We potentially have a catastrophe on our hands, Manwë. We know what happened last time one of the Maiar felt they weren't wanted or loved. They need our love and support and will seek it out wherever it is given if it does not come from the source _Atar_ designed it to come from."

The eldest nodded, messaging his forehead to help him think.

"Believe me Námo, I know. This is a very volatile situation. One we need to address now."

To Námo, nothing happened. However, moments later, Nessa appeared in front of them, a questioning look on her face.

"What is it, Manwë?"

The Elder King looked her dead in the eye.

"I want to know why you said the Maiar are not worth as much as we are because they're not as strong."

Námo, watching his younger sister in the thought of Ilúvatar carefully, noted the panic and momentary guilt that crossed her fair features for a second. Then, she schooled her expression to neutral, regarding Manwë with outward calm.

"I never said anything of the sort, my lord. The Maiar have a lot of worth. Where did you hear that?"

Manwë glanced at Námo. The Doomsman kept his expression and countenance totally unreadable, content to let Manwë deal with this. At least for now. However, that didn't mean he wasn't analysing everything Nessa said or did.

"I heard from a reliable source someone overheard you saying something along the lines that because the Maiar are weaker than us Valar, we must make allowances for that." Manwë regarded her gravely. "Can you truthfully deny you ever said anything of the sort?"

The face of Nessa's fana went bright red at Manwë's question, and she swallowed nervously.

"It's not what you think, my lord."

Manwë's tone was glacial.

"Enlighten me then, my daughter."

Nessa glanced at Námo, who remained impassive and unreadable, before focusing her attention on Manwë.

"I do remember saying something to that effect, but I didn't mean they are worthless. Far from it. As whoever overheard me would have realised had they listened to the whole conversation. I was saying to Vána not to get upset that some of her Maiar needed to spend some time in Lórien after the War. She couldn't understand why they were rejecting her, refusing to return immediately to her service when they came back. She couldn't understand they needed time to recover before returning to their normal lives." Nessa calmly looked at Námo. "Who overheard me, might I ask?"

Námo's expression was inscrutable.

"You may, but won't be getting an answer. Just know your words were taken the wrong way, and sent several Maiar spiralling into an abyss of doubting themselves and their worth."

Nessa's eyes filled with worry.

"That doesn't sound good. That was not my intention at all. I just wanted to help my sister-in-law understand why her Maiar were not rejecting her by wanting to spend some time in Lórien. Especially those who participated in the War. She has a number of warrior Maiar among her retinue; both those who have taken pledge to just her, and those whom serve my brother or them both. Is – is the damage too great to fix?"

Manwë's expression was still impassive, but his voice had lost its glacial quality.

"That, remains to be seen. I think it's time we all met to discuss this issue; I have my doubts this is an isolated incident. Many among the Maiar are very fragile and insecure after the War, Eönwë among them." Manwë smiled grimly at Nessa's surprised look. "Yes, my dear. Even the Captain of the Hosts of the West was not unaffected by what happened on Middle Earth. Truth be told, none of us are. Though we Valar seem to be handling it better than the Maiar."

Understanding dawned in Nessa's eyes.

"Oh no."

Manwë nodded.

"Indeed. I want us all to meet in the main throne room in Almaren just before sunset." Manwë looked at Námo as he spoke. "Does that satisfy you?"

Námo nodded.

"Yes. For now." Catching his eyes, the Doomsman communicated with their leader via ósanwe.

*While I am inclined to think what Nessa said was taken the wrong way, these ideas had to have come from somewhere else to begin with. The Maiar are strong. It would take more than one incident to damage their self-worth image as much as it has.*

Manwë dismissed Nessa, even as he answered his younger brother in the thought of Ilúvatar.

*I understand your worry. I'm sure we will get to the root of the problem in this council.*

Námo's expression did not change.

*We'd better. That's two who have ended up with me because they felt others did not want, nor love, them.*

Manwë said nothing in reply. However, for a long time after Námo went back to Mandos, the Elder King sat in pensive silence.

* * *

There was dead silence as Námo told the gathered Valar what he'd recently found out. When he said how Urunírë felt he and his brethren were often seen as third-class citizens by the Valar, Aulë looked heartbroken.

"That's not true. First Mairon doubts his worth, and now Urunírë does! What am I doing wrong?"

Námo kept his thoughts to himself about what the Worldsmith was doing wrong. Now was not the time, nor the place, to point out all the problems in what he did. Or didn't do, as it were. The awkward silence following Aulë's outburst was broken by Varda.

"I do not like this. The Maiar harbouring these thoughts can only lead to trouble."

Manwë nodded, even as he looked at Námo with an unreadable expression.

"Is this what you were getting at when you told me not to confront Eönwë about his suspicions some time back?"

Námo was unrepentant.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Námo looked at him with equanimity.

"I do not know precisely the reason; I simply said those things because _Atar_ willed it so. You know that to be true."

Manwë's expression remained impassive.

"Yes. But I still wonder."

Námo's voice gave away nothing of how he was feeling.

"So do I. I wonder about a lot of things I see, yet seldom do I get an answer."

Irmo broke the awkward silence.

"So, what are we going to do about this? It goes without saying something must be done." The Lord of Lórien looked worried. "I'm not entirely sure how we can fix this, however. Námo. Do you have any ideas, apart from making a proclamation to all the Maiar? Which is a bad idea in itself, I might add, but we won't go there right now."

Nessa spoke up, when it became obvious Námo was not going to verbally respond to his brother.

"The way I see it, we need to reassure the Maiar they are loved and valued. I don't think a mere apology will suffice. We need to show it by our actions. Letting the Maiar all know we are sorry, and didn't intend things the way they were taken, would help. But, ultimately, it's our actions towards them that will have the largest impact."

Manwë nodded.

"I agree. The thing is, how can we go about doing that? Does anyone have any other suggestions?"

Vairë spoke up.

"I have one."

All eyes were on the Valië, who regarded them with a knowing smile.

"What if we hold a feast for the Maiar in which we all serve them? Námo and I have been doing it almost annually with our Maiar for over five hundred years now. Doing something like that for all of them will help with starting to show them they are special and valued."

Tulkas looked confused.

"How will that work? There are too many Maiar for them all to come to one event. Besides, there are several jobs that require Maiar to be in attendance at all times. How will we factor them in?"

All this time, Námo said and did nothing. His countenance remained neutral, as he let his fellow Valar discuss these things. He knew doing something along these lines may help dispel the notion the Maiar had little worth. However, it would take a lot more to stamp these thoughts out completely than just a simple meal. Thanks to Lómindil's investigations (which Námo had said nothing about. There were some things even Manwë didn't have the right to know) the Lord of Mandos knew these thoughts, and others like them, had deep roots.

Roots that, intentionally or not, the Valar had established by their own actions. Having both Mairon and Urunírë in his care had given Námo a unique perspective on these circumstances, though even he wasn't sure what had started the problems. Námo suspected the seeds may have been sown as far back as when the Elder first came to Aman. Though he knew the problems had really began after Melkor had been released from Mandos. Urunírë had said to him many among the Maiar had been worried about that, but hadn't been brave (or stupid. Melkor had been set free on Manwë's orders. Out of all the Valar, he was the one they would not question) enough to speak up against it. And the events that occurred during the Darkening had left many reeling.

By the time the world had righted itself, much irreparable damage had already been done.

"Námo? Námo! Hello, anyone home?"

The Doomsman pulled himself out of his thoughts to regard Irmo.

"What?"

His brother just shook his head in exasperation, not letting Námo's dour answer put him off in the slightest.

"Did you hear a word of what we just said?"

Námo gave him a look that clearly stated he thought that question ludicrous.

"Yes. You all want to have a feast in which we serve the Maiar. You have decided we will take turns looking after those whom can't leave their posts, so every single one of them will receive the same treatment. You can't decide when to do this, but agree it must be done soon. At the feast, you will make a formal apology to all of them, and explain the misunderstandings. Have I missed anything?"

Irmo shook his head.

"No. You were listening, after all. I could've sworn you were on the outer edges of the solar system, with the way you haven't moved since we started talking. Arien went to her rest hours ago."

Námo looked around at the other Valar, before focusing back on his brother.

"To be precise, it has been two hours and almost sixteen minutes since Anar set. If you really want to know."

Vairë laughed softly. Irmo looked chagrined, accepting the mild rebuke. No one said anything for a moment. It was Oromë who broke the silence. The Vala of the Hunt suddenly cocked his head to the side, frowning.

"If you'd excuse me, Manwë, I am afraid I am urgently needed elsewhere for a moment. One of my Maiar is very distressed over something. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Manwë nodded in permission, and Oromë disappeared. Looking around at the remaining twelve Valar, the Elder King spoke thoughtfully.

"That's another thing we need to change. Apparently, one thing that has contributed to these feelings, is the fact the Maiar do not always have access to us when they want it. For some reason or another, they've been made to wait on our pleasure, which at times is understandable. However, the elves being admitted to see us before our own Maiar is not. Providing there's not a crisis happening that we have to deal with, there is no reason _any_ of our Maiar should not be free to come to us about anything, whenever they desire."

More than one of the Valar looked guilty (Aulë especially, though his expression was still somewhat heartbroken), but all nodded humbly in agreement at Manwë's words. The Eldest in the thoughts of Ilúvatar sighed wearily, before sharing a look with his beloved that no one else could interpret. Receiving a nod from her in answer to whatever he'd said, Manwë turned back to the Valar.

"Does anyone have any comments, observations, or ideas they wish to add before we end this meeting?"

There was silence for a long moment. Then Námo spoke.

"This idea will hopefully go some ways towards reconciling us with the Maiar, but there is one more thing I would like to address before we end this council."

Námo's gaze swept over them all, before alighting on Manwë. More than one Valar had to fight not to squirm under the promise of doom that gaze carried, even as Námo addressed their King.

"I feel we need to understand what started these thoughts and feelings in the first place, to ensure we never let it happen again. I fear that, even inadvertently, more of you have contributed to this than you realise. To that end…" Námo looked around at them all again, before focussing on their King. "Manwë. Even you may have inadvertently contributed to this situation we have found ourselves in."

Manwë swallowed, returning Námo's impassive gaze with a glacial one of his own.

"Do tell me how?"

Námo's aura did not shift.

"At Mairon's trial, you said the Maiar are weaker than us. You then went on to say Mairon would not survive hours of interrogation, but we could. All those here are witness to you saying that, if they care to remember."

Several of the gathered Valar nodded slowly, recalling to mind those painful memories. The memory of subjecting such a broken and abused soul to what they had (though they'd had no idea what he'd gone through at the time) still haunted more than one Valar.

Námo waited until Manwë also nodded, his expression inscrutable, before he continued.

"While I doubt you meant it in any demeaning way; you were simply stating a fact, if you'd said that out loud, it could have been taken another way. Very easily. While only us Valar heard you, I suspect there may have been other incidents when things did get out."

Manwë looked simultaneously guilty and horrified at that realisation, while most of the other Valar looked stunned. Eventually, the Elder King opened his mouth to speak. However, what Manwë was going to say in response, the other Valar never found out. At that precise moment Oromë appeared, looking grim. He was accompanied by one of his Maiar, whom was looking at the ground and refusing to make eye contact. Manwë gave her a surprised look, before turning to the Hunter.

However, before he could say anything, Oromë was addressing Námo. His facial muscles were tight, though his tone was carefully controlled and neutral.

"Mairon is in danger."

Námo's eyes and countenance hardened the moment those words left Oromë's mouth. Regarding not the Vala, but the Maia, with a gaze that prophesied Doom Was Coming, the Vala addressed her with a glacial tone.

"What do you mean, Mairon is in danger?"

The female Maia paled under the gaze of the Doomsman of Arda; would probably have fainted had Oromë not placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Námo asked you a question, Roimewen. It would be in your best interest to answer him truthfully."

The Maia swallowed roughly, before putting on a brave face.

"My brother, Nehtartúra, has lost his mind…"

* * *

**BOOM! End of Chapter 2**

* * *

**And so it begins...**

**The Grand Plot of Part 2.**

***Evil Grin***


	3. A Maia's Revenge-part 1

**Chapter 3: A Maia's Revenge-part 1**

_A day or two earlier._

"Brother, this is sheer madness! Getting those younger Maiar involved with your plans was risky enough. Getting the Children involved won't end well for anyone!"

Nehtartúra's orange eyes blazed, as he glared at his sister.

"How else am I to pull this off? I dare not risk getting more Maia involved. Besides, the elves agreed to this of their own free will. All it took was a few choice words whispered in a few certain individual's ears among the returned Noldoric exiles, to have them practically fighting each other for the privilege of seeing Morgoth's Chief lieutenant destroyed."

Roimewen glared right back.

"Have you lost your reason? There's no need to get the Children involved with this! It's a very bad idea that I cannot condone. No good will come out of it, mark my words."

Nehtartúra's lips were pressed so tightly together, they were a thin line. His bright orange eyes blazed with a hatred that caused Roimewen to take an involuntary step back.

"What difference will it make?" He hissed. "I've said time and time again I don't care what happens to me, so long as our family is avenged. I'm running out of time to have that happen. I need more help, and I can't trust any among the Maiar not to tell the Valar. Those elves who I've recruited, however, hate the Valar. They won't betray us to them."

"Us? What makes you think I'll be there?"

Nehtartúra looked at her in some shock.

"Won't you? I thought you agreed to be with me the whole way."

Roimewen's voice was like ice.

"That was before you decided to lose all reason. Now, you are on your own. I refuse to be a part of this. Brother. It has gone too far."

The look of shock on her brother's face was almost gratifying. At least for a moment. Then, a rage and fury the likes of which she'd never seen overtook his features. In seconds, Roimewen was on her back on the ground, her brother looming over her, teeth bared, snarling.

The female Maia froze in fear, staring at this – _creature_ – in absolute shock.

"Nehtartúra? What are you doing?"

The creature on top of her snarled.

"You'll regret the day you decided to betray me."

Before Roimewen had a chance to process what he meant, intense pain erupted in her lower stomach. Screaming in agony, her cries were abruptly cut off as the air left her lungs, due to a punch aimed just under her ribs. Trying to shed her fana and flee, the Maia found, to her horror, this _creature_ was holding her mind in place, preventing her from fleeing in that manner. As the pain overwhelmed her senses, panic the likes of which she'd never felt before setting in as the assault continued, Roimewen desperately prayed for help, not knowing who she was even praying to.

Suddenly, a power the likes of which she'd never felt flooded through her. Roimewen channelled it at her crazed brother, willing him to stop. A pained scream met her ears, as the pressure holding her down lessened. At the same time, the hold on her mind loosened. The Maia instantly thought herself away, without even looking to see what she'd done.

She just wanted to get out, away from this monster who'd consumed her only remaining brother.

Without making a conscious decision, Roimewen thought herself to one of her hideouts not even Nehtartúra knew about. It was small cave nestled in the foothills of a remote part of the north-east Pelóri mountains, not too far from the forests of Oromë. It's located, however, being half-way up a sheer cliff-face, made it inaccessible if one didn't know precisely where it was. Leaning against the rough rock wall, Roimewen trembled in shock, horror, and not a little fear and pain. Finally, as her panic subsided, her mind started to process what had just happened.

Her own brother had attacked her.

_Her own brother had attacked her._

Simply because she'd told him she thought bringing some of the elves in to help exact revenge on Morgoth's lieutenant too risky and stupid, and had refused to be a part of it.

Undermining Sauron's position here was one thing. Though, so far everything Nehtartúra had attempted to do had failed. Even luring the younger Maia away from others, directly attacking him, and then spreading untrue rumours about it afterwards to try and turn others against him, had failed. Roimewen might not have agreed with everything her brother did, but had let it go, helping when she'd felt like it. She fully believed someone should pay for what had happened to their other brother, and the suffering they'd all gone through. However…

Even Sauron didn't deserve to have that sheer level of hate and rage levelled at him. Not when his only crime (as far as Roimewen could tell) was having served the dark Vala. Many had done so. As her heartbeat started calming down, Roimewen swallowed, realising the decision that lay before her. Either keep quiet and let things play out as they will, or go to the Valar and tell them what had happened. Either path would end in disaster for both her, her brother, and those others who'd gotten involved.

Looking at her options, the Maia realised with despair she'd been deliberately blind, allowing her own desire for revenge to cloud her judgement. Up to now, she'd justified her actions to herself by the fact she wasn't directly involved with everything Nehtartúra did. She hadn't planned anything, (though she'd helped out with much of it), and thus felt she was not truly responsible for anything that happened.

Her injuries suddenly flared in pain, causing the Maia to gasp and double over. However, the physical pain was nothing to the pain in her heart from her own brother having attacked her. Roimewen was now forced to admit she was in the wrong just as much as her brother. She had, just like Urunírë, broken the Valar's trust, condoning others to do the same. Punishment for that, she was sure, would be less lenient than what had happened to Urunírë.

Not that she could think of anything worse than been given to the Lord of Mandos to serve him. Maybe she would be locked up in Mandos like Melkor had been? The Maia shuddered in pure fear as that thought crossed her fëa. Though she knew she deserved it, she would do anything to avoid that fate.

A soft thought suddenly whispered itself across her fëa.

*Would you really do anything?*

Roimewen cowered against the wall, trying to shake off the feeling of shame and self-loathing at her own cowardice that voice had awoken. She instinctively knew who was speaking to her, and didn't want to hear what he had to say. She was not going to the Valar to have them punish her.

*Do not be so arrogant, my daughter.*

Roimewen glared at the roof.

"I am not being arrogant. I am being prudent. If the Valar find out what I've done –"

The thought was gentle, yet commanding.

*Even if you do not tell them, do you really think they will not find it out from someone else?*

The Maia started, that thought not having occurred to her. Gritting her teeth, the Maia spoke roughly.

"Leave me alone, _Atar_."

The presence that brushed against her fëa was sad.

*Very well, my daughter. If that is what you want. However, know no matter what you do, your part in this will be found out. Do not think your brother will not rat out everyone involved to try and save his own skin. His hatred of everything evil, and his desire for senseless revenge, has blinded him to aught else.*

Before the Maia had time to get angry, Eru's presence was gone, leaving her feeling surprisingly weak and shaky. Sagging against the wall, the Maia placed a hand protectively over her aching ribs, as she unwillingly thought on what her _Atar_ had said.

He was right, of course. No matter what happened, she was doomed. And she deserved nothing less for her actions (or lack of them). As for her brother…

Nehtartúra was heading down the path of no return. No matter what she did now, he would be severely punished by the Valar. She couldn't stop it. All she could do was try and have him stopped before he went too far.

To do that, she would have to face the Valar, and own up for what she'd done.

After debating with herself for several days about what to do, Roimewen finally made her decision.

* * *

_Present._

The Valar were silent as Roimewen finished speaking. All had heard her perfectly, despite her words having been mostly addressed to the ground. Most were shocked. Both at what they'd been told, and by the fact Eru had intervened in such a direct way. Even among the Valar, he rarely interfered with their free will decisions. Unless those decisions would prove detrimental to them and those around them in absolute ways.

Manwë was the first to speak, regarding Roimewen coldly.

"You did the right thing coming to us, but you are still in deep trouble. Do you know precisely what your brother plans to do?"

The Maia shook her head, refusing to look up.

"Nay, my lord. I just know several elves are involved now, along with a couple of the other Maiar. And I know Nehtartúra wants to do something that will have long-term ramifications. That's all I know, my lord."

Varda's voice was just as cold.

"You don't know when, or where?"

The Maia shook her head, refusing to look up. Manwë frowned.

"Look at me, Roimewen. That's an order."

After a moment, the Maia obeyed. Even though it was obvious she didn't want to. When she made eye contact with the Elder King, she gasped and stood stock still, frozen in place by the force of his gaze. After a long minute, Manwë blinked, and the Maia stumbled back, practically ending up on her knees. She didn't attempt to rise, her eyes back on the ground. However, now she was trembling uncontrollably, and her eyes were blank and unfocused. Regarding her dispassionately, Manwë spoke.

"You truly do not know what your brother plans to do. However, you are no more innocent in this then he is. Námo?"

The Doomsman did nothing visible, but moments later two of his Maiar appeared. They looked identical, down to their dark hair and eyes, grim expressions, and even with the armour and swords they each wore. They gave all the Valar deep bows, before turning to Námo.

"You called for us, my lord?" Tindómon asked.

Námo gestured to the white-faced and trembled Roimewen kneeling next to Oromë. The Vala hadn't moved since they'd arrived.

"Take her to Mandos; keep her under guard until further notice. Yúcalion," Námo turned to the other Maiar, whose grim expression was set in granite. "See her wounds are treated. No one is to have any contact with her but you two."

Both Maiar nodded respectfully in understanding, before each taking hold of one of the female Maia's arms. Without even an acknowledgement of the other Valar, the two thought themselves and their charge away. That sorted, Námo looked at Manwë. His eyes were blazing.

"Roimewen might not know exactly what her brother is planning to do with _my_ Maia, but what did she know?"

Manwë looked grim.

"What she did know, is the names of the two younger Maiar her brother coerced into helping him…"

* * *

Lómindil started, almost falling out of his tree, when Námo suddenly spoke to him via ósanwe.

*Where's Mairon?*

The dark-haired Maia caught hold of the closest branch, hauling himself back up, before answering.

*Around. I think he and Marilwë are hiding together. Why the concern, my lord?*

Námo's answer was short, and to the point.

*One of Oromë's Maiar wishes him harm.*

Lómindil swallowed.

*None of Oromë's Maiar are with us.*

*He roped two others into helping. And one of them _is_ with you. Where is Sámotára?*

Lómindil eyes widened.

*Hiding. We all are. We're playing hide-and-go-seek. I don't know precisely where he is. My lord, why don't you contact Mairon direct?*

Námo sounded worried, to one who knew him well.

*I have tried. He's not responding.*

Lómindil's eyes widened further.

*That…is not good. Marilwë!*

Moments later, another presence brushed across his mind. This one radiated confusion.

*Lómindil? What's wrong?*

*Mairon is in danger. Where is he?*

There was a brief pause, before the female Maia replied.

*He's nearby. We couldn't find a hiding spot big enough for us both. Sámotára offered to show him a few good spots – *

Lómindil's face lost all colour, and he felt Námo's anxiety sky-rocket. Before he could say anything, however, the Vala took command of the conversation.

*Marilwë, find them. Sámotára wishes Mairon harm.*

The female Maia's confusion and fear could clearly be felt. But, she didn't question her lord, hurrying to follow his command. However, before she could take more than a few steps in the direction they'd gone, a mental scream seared through their heads. It was cut off as abruptly as it had started, leaving both Maiar reeling from the onslaught of emotions. Námo abruptly broke off their mental contact, appearing in front of Lómindil moments later. Grabbing the still-reeling Maia, he thought them to where Marilwë was. The female Maia was standing stock still, in too much shock to even register what had just happened.

However, Lómindil understood it well enough. Looking at Námo in horror, the dark-haired Maia spoke.

"That was Mairon screaming, wasn't it?"

Námo nodded grimly. Gently cradling a still-shocked Marilwë, the Vala spoke.

"Yes. And I now cannot sense him at all, not even his last position. Which either means he's deeply unconscious, or his bond with me is being blocked." The Doomsman looked even grimmer. "Which, as Sámotára is now involved, is a very real possibly. He has learnt a thing or two from my brother already, despite not having been with him for long."

Lómindil swallowed, suddenly feeling nauseous.

"What do we do now, lord?"

Námo looked at him with his bright silver eyes. Even though they were masked, the Maia could still see the fire burning in them. A fire that didn't bode well for whoever (or whatever) had taken Mairon.

"We find him. Lómindil. I want you to gather everyone and take them back to camp. I'll send Nécanyellë and Ambariel to help you keep things in order, and escort them all to the Máhanaxar. Tindómon and Yúcalion are a little busy right now."

Lómindil looked troubled; and his nod was a reluctant one.

"It shall be as you say, my lord. Will we hear what this is all about then?"

Námo nodded grimly. Gently picking up a still stunned Marilwë, the Vala made to depart.

"Yes. I will explain what I know there."

* * *

**Fin** **ally, we have progress. But I was not expecting Daddy Ilúvatar to make a guest appearance at the beginning…shit must really be about to hit the fan.**

**...**

**A/N Thank you for all the lovely feedback and comments! This story is also on Ao3 now for those who prefer reading stuff over there.**


	4. A Maia's Revenge-part 2

_**Note: Eönwë's leave has since ended, and he's back on Middle Earth. Ilmarë is not on their camping trip anymore either, having only stayed as long as her brother was around.** _

**Chapter 4: A Maia's Revenge-part 2**

A small group of Maiar stood in a loose circle in the Máhanaxar, uneasily eyeing off the fourteen empty thrones surrounding them. Though quite a few were also eyeing off the three Maiar guards standing nearby, wearing the black robes and surcoats of Námo's people. Lómindil, Nécanyellë and Ambariel look to be carved out of stone, their posture and expressions never shifting, hands resting on their sword pummels. Almost all the Maiar who'd been out on the camping trip that day were there; Marilwë and Mairon were notably absent. Most looked confused or worried; a select few even looked fearful.

A fear that only grew the longer they had to wait, and sky-rocket the moment fourteen Valar appeared in flashes of light that had everyone blinking and shielding their eyes. When they could all see again, every one of them regarded their lord or lady in bewilderment. A few of the younger ones even looked scared, subconsciously moving closer to their elders for reassurance.

Elenfirië was one of these. She looked to be close to tears, clutching Tavaril's hand like a lifeline as she regarded her lord with worry.

"Did I do something bad? Only people who do bad things end up in the Ring of Doom."

The small Maia was standing between Tavaril and Calimandil, looking like a lost child. She might be among the oldest in terms of age, but her mental state was anything but. Without a word, Námo left his throne. Kneeling in front of her, he gently took her hands in his.

"You aren't in trouble, sweetheart. You've done nothing wrong. We're doing this here because this is the best place to talk to you without being disturbed, and with no chance of anyone we don't want overhearing what we say. And the reason you're here is because Mairon is missing. We hope some here may have information that will help us find him."

The Vala ignored the shocked and uneasy looks many of the Maiar shared. Olórin went white at the revelation. He would most likely have collapsed if Urunírë, who was standing next to him, hadn't reached out and steadied him. The Maia could do nothing but stare at Námo in horror, trying to process the fact his little brother was missing. Meanwhile Elenfirië, rather than being mollified at Námo's words, grew even more upset. Her bright blue eyes filled with tears, her lower lip beginning to quiver.

"Mairon's missing? What's happened to him? I like Mai. He plays with me, gives me cuddles, and lets me braid his hair."

Námo gently kissed her brow, wiping away the few tears that trickled down her cheeks.

"I know. And we will find him soon, I promise. Right now, I need you to be a brave girl and stay with Tavaril, and not get upset again, okay? It will help us find Mai quicker."

The Maia looked at her lord with tear-filled eyes.

"It will really help you find him?"

Námo nodded. His voice was very gentle and patience.

"Yes. By being a brave girl, you will help us."

Elenfirië sniffed, blinking hard to dispel any remaining tears. She straightened her shoulders and stiffened her lips so they were no longer quivering. Námo let her feel his approval, before gently turning her to face Tavaril.

"Go and stand with Tavaril. I have a few things I want to say to you all. But you aren't in trouble, my sweet. Now, off you go."

The Vala gently shooed his daughter into Tavaril's capable care, before returning to his throne. Námo shared an unreadable look with Manwë. Moments later, the eldest in the thoughts of Ilúvatar stood, regarding all the Maia with an unreadable expression.

"We have reasons to believe Sámotára is involved with Mairon's disappearance." More than one gasp greeted that statement, especially from those whom served Irmo or Estë, but Manwë ignored them for now. Olórin looked to be about to say something, but the look on the Vala's face had him wisely keeping his mouth shut. "But we also want to make sure none of you know anything. Therefore, we will ask you each a few questions individually, with the aim of reading your fëa."

A few looked worried at that revelation, but Manwë was not finished.

"All we will do is watch your auras when you answer our questions. They will tell us if you are telling the truth or not. We won't enter your minds, nor will we look at your thoughts. We do not need to do that to get the truth."

Námo now stood, looking grimly at the group of Maia. The fell light that radiated from his eyes caused more than one to tremble and/or look away. Surprisingly, no one fainted.

"It's no use thinking about lying my children; we will find out. If you are innocent, then you have nothing to fear. This won't hurt, and it will be over with quickly. Astarion. You go first."

* * *

Olórin was livid.

"As if _attacking_ my little brother wasn't enough, now they've blatantly _kidnapped_ him? Who are _they_ even? I can't believe you still don't have a clue who's behind this!"

Manwë sighed. Olórin continued raging, storming around the room with a black expression that rivalled Námo's favourite colour. The King of the Valar had been trying to calm his Maia down ever since their little Inquiry had ended, with no success. Olórin was currently giving Námo a run for his money in the furious department, Manwë thought wryly. He didn't think he'd ever seen one of his Maia so riled up.

Not that he blamed Olórin. Manwë himself was not pleased with what had occurred. While they hadn't named anyone but Sámotára as being involved during the Inquiry, Manwë had learnt much more from Roimewen. Nehtartúra was dangerous right now; Manwë was very aware Mairon may never fully recover from what Oromë's Maia planned to do to him. They needed to be found, and the plan halted, as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, Manwë was at a loss how he was supposed to do those things.

And Olórin's behaviour was not helping.

"Olórin, for goodness sake, calm down. Being furious isn't going to bring your brother back any sooner. If you want to help, then you can try and remember every little detail about what happened out there over the last few days. As it happens, we actually do know the mastermind behind this. But are having trouble finding him."

Olórin stopped pacing, regarding Manwë with determination and unconcealed rage.

"Then why don't you do something about it! My lord." He added belatedly, realising he'd effectively just yelled at Manwë. The Vala, however, was not offended.

"We are trying. It's more complicated then you realise. Especially because we have reason to believe some of the elves are involved, along with Sámotára and one of Aulë's Maiar. We think this is a revenge plot hatched by someone who has nursed a grudge, and intense hatred of Morgoth and all he did, for many _yéni_."

Olórin had stopped pacing, and was now staring at his lord in shock.

"But-but Mairon is not responsible for what _He_ did! Or for what He made Mai do! You've done an admirable job of keeping exactly what _did_ happen a secret from me, but I know Mairon was at least coerced into doing many things he didn't want to. His behaviour when he first arrived here gives it away. While I didn't see him until much later, I know he was abused by _Him_."

Olórin gave Manwë a challenging look that smouldered with anger. Despite the murderous look, the anger wasn't directed at Manwë, but at the situation in general.

And at the ones who dared to take Mairon in the first place. Right now, Olórin's anger really was enough to give even Námo's rage a run for its money. The Vala, at least, had to maintain some outer vestige of calm about the situation. No matter how furious he personally felt.

Olórin had no such inhibitions.

"And the fact you're all so determined to keep the truth from me…he is _my brother_. I deserve to know what happened to him!"

Manwë gave his Maia a warning look that pulled him up short. Suddenly paling under his lord's regard, Olórin swallowed nervously. However, he held his ground, not about to either back down or apologise. He was fed up with being kept in the dark. He wasn't a child, and it was high time the Valar stopped treating him like one…

"Mairon himself doesn't want you to know what he went through."

Olórin blinked, looking at his lord in open-mouthed shock.

"What?"

Manwë nodded to himself. He looked grim.

"You do not need to know what happened, which is why we've never told you. And Mairon has made peace with his past, as much as he's able to anyways. He wants to put all that behind him, and focus on the second chance we have given him."

Olórin was now opening and closing his mouth like one of Ulmo's fish. It was a while before he managed to speak.

"Oh."

Manwë nodded.

"Indeed."

The earlier anger was completely gone. Now, the Maia just looked tired and heartsick. Collapsing onto a nearby bench, Olórin stared mournfully at his hands, not really seeing them.

"I- I am sorry, my lord –"

Manwë knelt in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his lap.

"You are forgiven, Olórin. Know we are doing everything in our power to find Mairon. And then some. Unfortunately, this was far from a spur-of-the-moment decision. Those behind this planned it out in detail, including how best to avoid us. We will find them. Don't fear. But I need you to be patient. Having Námo fighting me to send those responsible to Mandos for eternity the moment they are found is bad enough."

Olórin looked at Manwë in shock, words escaping him yet again. The Vala gave a grim smile at his expression.

"He will lose, by the way. And he knows it. But, that doesn't stop him. My younger brother is very determined when he sets his mind to something. Do you trust me, my son?"

Olórin looked at his lord in surprise.

"You are my lord. Why wouldn't I trust you?"

Manwë did not answer that question. Rather, he asked one of his own.

"Then will you trust me when I say we are doing everything in our power to find Mairon right now? He will be found, Olórin. That, I can promise you. I need you to trust me for the rest of it. Can you do that, my son?"

Olórin sighed. Now he was over his initial anger, he felt drained of all emotions except worry. Looking up at Manwë, who was waiting patiently, the Maia gave a weary nod.

"I will try, my lord. I – am afraid I cannot promise more than that right now."

Manwë hugged him.

"For now, that will do. Thank you."

* * *

Meanwhile, in the privacy of the inner garden of Mandos, three Maiar were discussing recent events. Urunírë, Tavaril and Marilwë were trying to figure out what on earth could have happened to Mairon. Marilwë had gotten over the worst of her shock by this point. Having her special bond with Mairon abruptly severed like that had left her reeling for some time, and she still felt off-kilter. However, that wasn't about to stop her. None of them were about to let things alone; not when it was their little brother who'd been kidnapped. So far, they'd had no success, but were not about to give up. Urunírë suddenly broke off from their fruitless discussion, looking around them as a realisation hit.

"Hang on a sec, where is Marta? Has anyone seen her since before Mairon disappeared? Was she with him?"

Tavaril frowned as she thought back.

"I though he left her sleeping at the camp when we decided to play hide-and-go-find. Though, come to think of it, she wasn't there when we broke camp."

Marilwë spoke up.

"She wasn't with Mairon when he left me. I know that for a fact."

Urunírë looked troubled.

"I didn't even think to look around the camp for her when we went back. But the question remains. Where is she?"

"My guess would be with Mairon."

All three jumped as Lómindil appeared out of nowhere, as he was wont to do. Tavaril muttered a few choice words under her breath, which made Lómindil's mouth twitch upwards. However, he quickly became serious again, regarding them gravely.

"I'm also wondering were Marta is. I've been asking around, and it turns out no one has seen her since before Mairon disappeared. Even though we did leave her at camp, she wasn't there when we went back." The raven-haired Maia regarded the other three with a troubled look. "That cat is smart. I wouldn't be surprised if she realised something was wrong before we did. Where she is, however, I've no idea. My best guess would be either with Mairon, or tracking him. She is a predator species, after all."

The other three looked at him in surprise and consideration. Urunírë spoke first.

"Do you really think she could have done that?"

Lómindil shrugged.

"It's just a suggestion. Though I wouldn't put anything past her. She _does_ seem to have a sixth sense for figuring out where people are.."

Tavaril's lips twitched.

"She certainly has a sense of knowing where Lord Námo is at any given time."

Lómindil nodded.

"Exactly. What's to say she can't do the same with Mairon? Especially given how protective she is of him."

All the Maia looked thoughtful. Marilwë spoke first.

"Have you told Lord Námo this?"

Lómindil nodded.

"Yes, and he agrees with me it's very likely. However," The raven-haired Maia sighed, collapsing wearily onto a bench, being careful not to sit on the sheath housing his sword. "He still has no idea where to look for her. The Valar have combed every inch of the area around where we were playing, and haven't found any trace of either Mairon, Marta, or Sámotára. It's almost like they all disappeared into thin air."

Lómindil looked at the other three with determination.

"Which is slightly impossible with the way Mairon is bound. While we can think him places, he can't stay incorporeal for too long. So, the question remains, where are they? Do any of you have any ideas about where we could look?"

* * *

**A/N Thank you for all the feedback! I've been really encouraged with the overwhelming support for this idea. Now, it would just be nice if my plot bunnies would stop writing random Clint Barton-centric drabbles and actually focus on completing Part Four of this...**


	5. A Maia's Revenge-part 3

**_Warning: Violence in this chapter towards someone who is already hurt and totally defenceless._ **

* * *

**Chapter 5: A Maia's Revenge-part 3**

Pain. That was the first thing to register through the fog permeating all his sense.

Through the haze of pain, he could hear several voices arguing, but trying to figure out who they belonged to was beyond him right now.

Mairon moaned. A white-hot pain lacing through his head at that action, almost causing him to lose consciousness again. He was aware enough to register the voices had stopped speaking. Soon, he became dimly aware of another presence standing over him, one he didn't recognise, but he didn't have the strength to open his eyes to see who it was. However, they flew open of their own accord when a hefty kick connected with his rib cage.

Crying out in pain and shock, the Maia attempted to move away from the source of pain. He cowered, trying to protect the most vulnerable parts of himself, namely his head and stomach. Blinking blearily around in bewilderment, trying to ignore the agony encompassing his entire head and making his vision swim, Mairon tried to figure out where he was. It was all a blur, but he dimly realised, thorough the pounding in his skull, that the back of his head and neck were sticky with blood…

Before he became aware of anything else, however, he was violently sick. The action spiked the pressure in his head, and he cried out. Mairon closed his eyes, body shaking helplessly, ignoring the curses that greeted his actions. Tears slipped down his cheeks to drip off the end of his nose, as he rested his cheek on the cold floor.

Trying to avoid putting pressure on the obvious head wound, he concentrated on not passing out again. Through the pounding in his head, he heard several people yelling nearby, though he couldn't understand the words. Suddenly feeling a cool hand on his forehead, the Maia lent into it in relief, feeling the pain ebb a little. A few seconds later the hand was removed. Mairon hissed at the throbbing pain still vibrating through his whole head, but at least it was at a more bearable level now.

Opening his eyes with difficulty, Mairon blinked groggily at the person standing over him. As his vision partially cleared, he realised it was another Maia, one he didn't recognise. This Maia looking down at him had bright orange eyes filled with anger and contempt. Mairon swallowed in sudden, nauseous fear, recognising the wild look in those eyes...

He'd seen it often enough in the eyes of his Master, just before Melkor had taken his anger and frustrations at life out on his favourite thrall...

"Finally, you decided to wake up."

Mairon shuddered at his words, so like those his Master had once said. He didn't know where he was or why he was here, but he instinctively knew he was in deep trouble. Desperately reaching out for the bond he shared with his lord, Mairon felt fear take hold when he couldn't reach it. The orange-eyed Maiar, seeing that fear in his eyes, laughed.

"Did you really think I'm that stupid? Sámotára here is more than capable of blocking your link with Námo. He doesn't have a clue where you are. None of them do. And they won't find you anytime soon."

The fell grin the orange-eyed Maia gave him was enough to momentarily freeze the blood in Mairon's fana. His own eyes flickered to look at the aforementioned Maia, who refused to meet his eyes. The orange-eyed Maia's grin became even more predatory at seeing that, and he snapped his fingers towards someone standing just out of Mairon's sight.

"Nityatinwë. Let the elves know they can get ready."

Mairon felt an emotion he couldn't describe run through him at hearing that. Looking at the orange-eyed Maia in horror, Mairon managed to speak without his voice trembling too much, though it was very croaky.

"W-why? W-who are you?"

The orange-eyed Maia gave him a feral grin.

"How remiss of me not to introduce myself. My name is Nehtartúra. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, my dear Sauron. It's time to pay for what you did to my family."

Through the pain threatening to envelop him and suck him back into oblivion, Mairon tried to understand what Nehtartúra was saying. His confusion must have shown on his face, because the orange-eyed Maia chuckled. The sound caused every hair on Mairon's body to stand on end.

"First thing is to get rid of this necklace. It is far too fancy for Filth like you to wear." The other Maia spat, the refuse hitting Mairon on his cheek. Kneeling to more easily reach what he thought was just jewellery adorning the smaller Maia's neck, the Maia seemed to speak to himself. "Why Lord Aulë would even give it to you is beyond me."

Due to the pain pounding through his head from the wound, it took Mairon a few moments to figure out what Nehtartúra meant. By this point, the other Maia was tugging at his necklace, cursing when he couldn't find a way to open or remove it. Ignoring how Mairon cried out in pain and cowered away, the orange-eyed Maia looked at him in annoyance.

"How do you get this thing off?"

Despite the situation, Mairon felt the corner of his lips twitch upwards.

"Only three people in the whole of Eä can remove it. And none of them are you."

Nehtartúra stared at him for a long moment, confused. Then, realisation dawned. When it did, the Maia muttered an oath. Surging to his feet, he savagely kicked Mairon, who cried out in shock, pain and fear. As the other Maia stormed away, Mairon took the opportunity to raise himself up a little, in an effort to examine the room he was in. Though, as soon as he did, he realised it wasn't a room, but a cave. The rough stone walls, roof and floor gave that away. Looking around blearily, the Maia realised Nehtartúra was no longer there. As he was looking around, he caught the eye of Sámotára again. Irmo's Maia was sitting on a plain wooden chair nearby. The moment Mairon looked in his direction, he averted his eyes, hunching his shoulders in.

"I'm sorry, Mairon. I've no choice but to help him."

Mairon blinked, struggling to find the right words to ask why. However, before he could say anything, Nehtartúra returned. He wasn't alone. With him were several dark-haired elves, and another dark-haired Maia. This Maia was carrying a leather bag, which he placed on the floor a few feet away. At seeing this, Mairon felt panic rising. This whole situation was eerily like the start of one of his Master's 'sessions'. Melkor would often bring a bag or crate to those, filled with whatever new tortures he'd devised – or forced Mairon to create.

Being forced to create weapons of torture, which were then tried out on him, was just one of the many cruel things Melkor had done to Mairon during those final years.

"Is that Sauron? He doesn't look very Sauron-ish to me."

Mairon blinked at the elf whom had spoken; trying to figure out why he was starting to feel so detached from what was happening around him.

"Trust me, that is Sauron. Though he calls himself Mairon now. Still, that doesn't change the fact he was Sauron in Middle Earth; it was _he_ who doubtlessly killed many of your friends and family." Nehtartúra's voice was full of glee and anticipation. "And now he will finally get what he deserves for all his foul deeds."

The elf's eyes lit up at hearing that, and a look of pure unbridled hatred overtook his features. Mairon felt his fear violently spike as the look was mirrored in the eyes of all the other elves.

He was in big trouble.

* * *

Oromë wasn't surprised when Námo appeared beside him, his presence like a clap of thunder. While he didn't react, the two Maiar with him jumped, already being on edge and not expecting it. The other Vala appeared outwardly calm, but the Hunter knew the Doomsman was anything but. It was now over a day since his Maia had been kidnapped, and Námo's anger was increasing with every passing second. Even though Oromë himself was in shock that one of _his_ Maiar would do something like this, he knew Námo was both in shock, and absolutely furious. However, they all had to remain strong and in control if they were to have a chance of finding Mairon.

"Any luck with tracking him?"

Námo's voice was sharp and unyielding, with an undercurrent of rage and doom. Tulcumbas and Roccondil both flinched at the harsh words, though they weren't directed at them. Oromë wearily shook his head, running a hand wearily over his face as he sighed.

"No. He was here, that much I can tell, but then his trail just seems to disappear." Oromë looked concerned. "I know Nehtartúra is good at tracking and the like, but he shouldn't be able to hide another from _me_."

Námo's expression grew even darker.

"Lots of things have happened recently that should not be possible. Right now, almost nothing would surprise me."

Oromë sighed.

"You have a point there. Any news from your end?"

Námo shook his head.

"Manwë has several contingents of Warrior Maiar out looking as well. However, I doubt they will have any success." Námo's mien darkened even further. "Something tells me Nehtartúra would have anticipated we'd do just that, and act accordingly. We know he had plenty of time and help to plan out exactly what he was going to do."

Tulcumbas and Roccondil looked at each other in unease at hearing that. The two Maiar were still in shock that Nehtartúra, whom they counted as a friend and brother, would do something like this. Sure, he'd always had a temper and hated evil creatures (two factors that had earned him his full name, Nehtartúra Ulundo, Great Slayer of Monsters) but that he would go as far as to defy the Valar and kidnap someone under their protection…

Oromë noticed their looks, especially that of Tulcumbas, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"This isn't your fault, Tulcumbas. Nor is it yours, Roccondil."

Tulcumbas drooped.

"I feel it is, my lord. I'm the chief of your people. I should have noticed something was wrong…"

Oromë sighed.

"You might be my chief, but that doesn't make your responsible for what others choose to do, child. This is more my fault than yours. I don't blame you for anything. Námo doesn't either, do you brother?"

Oromë addressed the other Vala, whose mien did not lighten any, even when he replied.

"Oromë is correct. I do not blame you for what happened. Nor do I blame him. However." Námo looked at all three of them coldly. "I am disappointed you are having so much trouble tracking him. Surely Nehtartúra is not powerful enough to obstruct _your_ sense, brother? I seem to remember many times where you tracked the seeming impossible without much trouble."

Oromë nodded.

"You are correct, and as I said before, Nehtartúra should _not_ be capable of blocking me. However, it appears he is. That doesn't mean I can't track them, but I need to re-think my strategy before I do. If anyone has any suggestions, I want to hear them."

"I have an idea. If you can't track Mairon, Sámotára, or Nehtartúra, what about tracking Marta? She's also disappeared. It is possible she may have gone after Mairon and his abductors."

Oromë looked in surprise at Lómindil. He'd been so focused on Námo, he hadn't noticed the Maia had since appeared. Námo nodded in agreement at his words, turning to the Hunter.

"That was my next question. Is that possible to do? We know where she was when Mairon was taken."

Oromë now looked thoughtful, as did the two Maiar with him. Tulcumbas looked at his lord, and a silent conversation passed between them. Looking at Námo and Lómindil when they'd finished, Oromë's eyes were shining with excitement.

"That should be possible. Very possible. Where was she last?"

Lómindil answered.

"At our campsite. We left her there while we went to play. When we returned to camp after Mai disappeared, she was gone. The camp was over here."

The raven-haired Maia led the two Valar and two other Maiar to a sheltered meadow on the outskirts of the forest. Pointing to a spot near the empty fire pit, Lómindil spoke.

"She was curled up on a cushion just there."

Oromë stooped to examine the ground, muttering something to himself that only his Maiar understood. After a few moments, the Hunter looked up at them all. His eyes glowered with an unearthly light as he smiled.

"Yes. There is a trail."

Námo's voice was sharp.

"Can you follow it?"

The Hunter nodded as he stood up.

"Yes. It's faint, but there. However, I cannot do it alone. Tulcumbas." Oromë turned to his Chief. "Valaróma please."

Lómindil's eyes widened, though Námo's expression remained impassive. No sooner had the words left Oromë's mouth, then his great horn appeared in Tulcumbas' hands. Holding it out to his lord, the Maia bowed in respect. Oromë took it with a nod of thanks, lifting it to his lips.

The sound that emitted from the great horn was the same sound that had once made even Melkor cower in Utumno. As the very fabric of reality seemed to cleave for a moment, Lómindil felt a great sense of wildness take told of his fëa. Though it died down after a moment as he felt Námo's energy calm him. Glancing at his fellow Maiar, he was unsurprised to see they were both glowing, quivering in excitement at the anticipation of a hunt. As he lowered the horn, Oromë also sported a feral grin, fell light emitting from his eyes. Looking at Námo (whose expression and posture were still set-in-stone) the Lord of the Hunt spoke in a voice that seemed to flash like lightening.

"Let us hunt."

* * *

Marta hissed in annoyance as she was forced to wade through yet another muddy stream. The solid ground had run out the moment she'd entered this water meadow, much to her displeasure. As she dragged herself out of the muddy water, for the umpteenth time the cat shook herself off in disgust.

Water by itself was bad enough. But she absolutely _loathed_ the way mud caked on her paws and made them itch. Lifting her head, Marta carefully sniffing the air. She'd been travelling non-stop for more than a day now, and instinctively knew she had to be close to Mairon. She'd felt their bond strengthen considerably the moment she'd entered this meadow, and it was becoming minutely stronger with every step she took.

Which meant he had to be very close by. She would find him. She just had to keep looking.

Marta's ears suddenly twitched, sharp hearing catching the sound of someone cursing nearby. Slinking in that direction, the cat stopped and crouched in the long grass, tail flicking slightly as she observed the scene. An elf was filling a bucket with water from one of the streams, grumbling to himself the whole time. Once he had enough water, he hefted up the bucket, starting back towards one of the cliffs that bordered two sides of this meadow.

Grumbling and cursing away to himself as he lugged the bucket along, he remained unaware he'd acquired a tail. Slinking along in the long grass a little ways behind him, Marta felt her bond with Mairon strengthen...

* * *

**A/N**

**Sorry for the wait. This week hasn't been great for me. But I'm going okay now, so there will be the next chapter up tomorrow as a thank you for your patience!**


	6. Chapter 6: A Maia's Revenge-part 4

**Chapter 6: A Maia's Revenge-part 4**

Mairon was yanked from oblivion by a shower of ice-cold water. Gasping in shock, pain and fear, the Maia opened his eyes. The action caused a white-hot knife of pain to thrust itself through his head,. Mairon closed them again with a broken sob. He managed not to pass out by sheer force of will, knowing it would be worse if he didn't at least try and stay conscious.

Nehtartúra didn't hesitate to use whatever means necessary to wake him up whenever he lost the battle. While his creativity in doling out punishment was woefully lacking in comparison to Melkor's, Mairon still wanted to avoid making his captor any angrier than he already was. While the other Maia's primary idea of torture seemed to involve beating Mai with every object imaginable (though he did let a couple of the elves occasionally take a turn), it still hurt. A lot. Mairon suspected several of his ribs were already broken, and his right arm was definitely bruised. And the pain from his head wound didn't help matters any, making things seem like they were coming from the other end of a long tunnel…

Mairon heard his captor suddenly scream, followed by a loud yowl. The Maia dimly registered he knew that yowl from someone, but his head was too fuzzy for him to open his eyes and see what was happening. Though he was desperately trying to stay conscious and understand what was going on, Mairon was losing the battle yet again. He'd noticed, each time he regained consciousness, he felt a little more detached from the situation at hand. This time, it almost felt like he was an observer to what was happening to his own fana. While torture was nothing new to him, he'd never felt _this_ way before…

Some part of his mind told Mai he should be worried about this, but the Maia couldn't figure out why that was. He didn't mind this floating feeling; it lessened the pain from his physical wounds.

Suddenly, more shouting joined in the screams, but Mairon no longer cared. He didn't want to leave this floating feeling. Sinking deeper into it, the Maia welcomed the embrace of oblivion that greeted him...

The last thing he was aware of was a gentle hand touching his face. The touch was familiar, as was this new presence, though it took Mairon's pain-addled brain a few moments to place it. When he did, the Maia tried to reach out in return, but the pull of Oblivion was just too strong. Realising he couldn't fight it, no matter how desperate he was to return to his lord, Mairon took the last path available to him. Opening his mind, which until now he'd kept tightly closed to everyone, the Maia cried out for help to the one he trusted above all else. Then Oblivion claimed him, and he knew no more.

…

"She's nearby. These tracks can't be more than an hour or two old."

Oromë finished examining the ground as he spoke. Rising to his feet, the Huntsman gave Námo and Lómindil (who still accompanied his lord) a grim smile.

"It shouldn't take long to find her now. Tulcumbas, I need you to –"

Just what he needed his chief to do, none of them ever found out. At that precise moment, a blood-curdling scream reached them, following by an equally loud yowl of pure rage. It seemed to come from one of the cliffs on the other side of the meadow; Námo wasted no time thinking himself there. The others were only seconds behind, but even so, they still almost lost the Doomsman. Arriving at a very well-hidden hole in the cliff-face, Námo strode in, his expression and posture announcing Doom Had Come. Oromë took a second to alert Manwë of the latest developments, before looking at Roccondil.

"Wait for Manwë."

Oromë didn't bother to say anymore, all but running into the cave after the Doomsman. He didn't _think_ Námo would actually send anyone to the Halls of Waiting (at least he hoped that wouldn't happen), but he needed to be a witness to whatever was about to go down.

Oromë navigated the twisting tunnel, cursing to himself at the delay. When the tunnel finally exited into a large cave, the Huntsman came upon a scene of utter confusion and chaos.

* * *

Námo strode into the cave radiating anger, to almost be knocked over. A tall Maia was stumbling around, cursing, trying vainly to pull what looked like a lump of mud off his head. The lump of mud was hissing and yowling in a most un-lump of mud type way and holding on for dear life, but Námo was already taking in the rest of the scene. He spotted Mairon right away. His Maia's fana was crumbled in one corner of the cave, surrounded by blood and other things, eyes closed. Námo couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. His copper hair was matted with blood and dirt, and his torso and head were lying in a pool of it.

Námo's countenance darkened even further, to the point one of the elves present fainted. Another two tried to flee, only to run headfirst into Oromë, who suddenly appeared in the entrance; knocking themselves out cold on his armoured torso. Not sparing the other Maiar and the elves more than a glance (even if they escaped, it would be easy to find them later) the Doomsman strode towards his Maia.

Stooping down next to Mairon, Námo rested a hand on his cheek, simultaneously checking his pulse. The Maia stirred at his touch, and the eldest Fëanturi felt his consciousness flicker, before both his fana and consciousness went deathly still. The Doomsman's own pulse sky-rocketed when he realised Mairon's pulse was very weak and thready, and getting weaker by the moment. He was so intent on Mairon, Námo started when Manwë suddenly spoke.

"Estë is on her way. Oromë and I will see to this lot." The King of the Valar gestured towards the front of the cave. "You concentrate on Mairon. He doesn't look so good."

Before Námo could respond, the Lump of Mud from before revealed itself to be Marta by appeared in front of him, mewing and nosing at Mairon in distress. Estë appeared moments later, gasping in horror at the sight to greet her. She wasted no time laying a hand on the back of Mairon's neck to get a reading on his state. Her expression grew grim as she read the signals his body was sending to his brain. Looking at Námo's questioning look, the Healer shook her head.

"It's not good. Írimawen!"

Seconds later, Estë's chief Maia appeared. She looked alarmed.

"My lady? What – " The Maia's words died out as she took in the scene. A look of horror overtook her fair features at seeing Mairon laying there, unmoving in a pool of blood. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the horror was gone, replaced with calm competence.

"What do you need?"

Estë rattled off a list, and Írimawen disappeared. Moments later she was back, with everything the Healer had requested. Placing them in a pile nearby, the Maia moved to stand next to her lady, ready to do whatever was needed. Looking at Námo grimly, Estë spoke.

"Can you hold him up? I need access to his head wound. It's the most serious."

Námo nodded. He and Estë carefully lifted Mairon's limp body up, until his back was facing the healer. Námo cradled the Maia to his chest as best he could, allowing Estë access to the injury. Estë gently placed her hands on Mairon's blood-socked hair to better understand what she was dealing with. Her lips grew thin.

*It is bad, brother. Very bad. If he were an incarnate, he would have since passed into your Halls. This level of damage…other Ainur would have since fled their fana.*

Námo's own lips thinned in response.

*He cannot do that with the way we've bound him.*

Estë's own expression was grim.

*No, he cannot. Which is why I need more help if I am to save his fëa from being irreparably damaged. Irmo!*

The younger Fëanturi instantly appeared. One look at the scene, and he wasted no time.

*What do you need me to do?*

Estë's expression was set.

*Mairon's fëa is in danger of being irreparably damaged, as it tries and fails to flee his fana. I need you to monitor it, while I work on healing his physical wounds.*

The Vala's eyes widened in shock, as he run a critical eye over Mairon.

*His fëa is already damaged. It's gone into shock, and is shutting down. Námo, you must reach out to him and keep him grounded! Only your bond with him can keep him from tipping over the edge he's dangerously close to. I'll support you, but you must do this! You need to keep him from slipping away before Estë can heal him.*

Námo's expression darkened, as he gently brushed a strand of matted hair out of his Maia's face. Mairon's eyes were closed, and his breathing was even more thready then it had been when the Vala first entered the cave. Though there was also a sense of calm about him that Námo knew hadn't been there before. Reaching out to gently brush against the shields protecting the Maia's mind, Námo spoke to him directly via Ósanwe, something he'd never done before. With the way Mairon's mind had been abused in the past, he'd carefully avoided doing anything that might have a negative association, always waiting for Mairon himself to establish a connection before communicating mentally.

However, right now, he didn't have much choice if he was to save his Maia from becoming even more damaged...

Pushing aside all the emotions that had been overwhelming him, he concentrated solely on his love and concern for the small being he cradled in his arms.

*Little One, where are you?*

* * *

Manwë ran a critical eye over the prisoners as Oromë, Tulcumbas, Roccondil and Lómindil finished securing them, ensuring no one was going anywhere. Nehtartúra was livid, his skin almost purple in anger. Though, that could have something to do with the bruising as well. Bleeding gashes cover his face, head and neck, and the swelling all around the gashes was somewhat spectacular. Marta had sharp claws, and knew how to use them. The Maia's eyes were especially a mess (Manwë didn't know how he could out of them at present), though it didn't seem to be worrying him. Nehtartúra was still cursing existence, trying to glare bloody murder at everyone. An action which wasn't very effective when you could barely see his eyes.

Eventually, Manwë grew tired of the curses, waving his hand. Immediately, Nehtartúra stopped talking, and his anger increased when he found he couldn't even open his mouth. However, Manwë had since lost interest in him, focusing on the group in the corner of the cave. He couldn't get close enough to see exactly what was happening, but knew Mairon was in a bad way. However, he also knew he couldn't do anything to help. This was not his area of expertise. All he could do was help Oromë secure the prisoners like the Hunter had asked him to, and take them somewhere safe until they had time to figure out what had happened, and probably hold yet another Trial. Manwë was still shocked and horrified to realise the elves were involved in this too. The presence of both Sámotára (who until fairly recently had served him), and the other Maia he didn't recognise, saddened him even further.

That made four Maiar involved in this so far. Four Maiar prepared to attack and harm their own people. And the fact Nehtartúra went and got the elves involved…

Manwë gave a heavy internal sigh.

The consequences for this were going to be heavy.

"Manwë. What do you want done with this lot?"

Oromë, having finished tying all the prisoners up to his satisfaction, now looked expectantly at his King for direction. Pulling his mind back from thinking about how he was supposed to sort this one out, Manwë focused on answering the Huntsman's question.

"For now, my mansion in Valmar will do. I will set my best warriors to guard them, until we have time to decide how to best deal with this." Manwë gave the elves especially a cold look. By now, they were all conscious. "And I have no doubt Námo will contribute some of his own guards as well in addition to Lómindil. You really should not have targeted one of his people."

One of the elves, who had either more courage or more stupidity then the others, suddenly went deathly pale.

"What do you mean, _one of his people_? Sauron is part of no one's people! He –"

The look Manwë gave him caused the elf to suddenly stop talking with a moan. Raking his icy gaze over them all, the Vala smiled grimly.

"It seems you were misled. _Mairon_ is counted among Lord Námo Mandos' people. My brother Vala takes a dim view of any whom threaten his children. And you did slightly more than threaten, if Mairon's current state is anything to go by."

All the elves went ghostly white at hearing that. Manwë gave a grim smile. The fell light emitting from his Being in that moment was enough to cause even Nehtartúra to pale considerably, and the sight caused every single elf to lose consciousness, their fëar not able to handle anymore.

With a single thought, Manwë summoned several of his Maiar to him, silently instructing them on what to do next. None of them questioned his orders, though Nornoros and Fionwë did cast lingering looks at the corner where Irmo, Estë and Námo were. However, they were quick to disappear with the prisoners. Oromë went with them to ensure all went as planned, as did Lómindil. That Maia was not happy at all, stalking around the prisoners, hand resting lightly on his sword pummel. Once only Manwë remained, the Elder King was able to turn his full attention to those seeing to Mairon.

One look at their grim expressions told the Elder King this wasn't good. Not wanting to distract Námo, Irmo or Estë from their work, Manwë reached out with his power to find out how things were going. However, he was waylaid before he could get far by Estë. Without even asking permission, the Healer latched onto his power with a deathly determination. Manwë was shocked to realise her power levels were very low. Instantly offering her access to his own reserve of power, Manwë gave up on trying to find out exactly what was wrong with Mairon.

That Estë had used up so much of her power in healing him spoke volumes. Even with her chief Maia helping, the Valië was using a lot more power than Manwë had ever seen her use before when healing anyone. Her hands and entire arms glowed gold, her eyes unfocused, as she worked on transferring healing energy to Mairon's fana.

Opposite them, Manwë noted Námo's eyes were also vacant, his expression unmasked. Irmo's eyes were closed; he wore a look of intense concentration. Manwë could see the thin tendril of power connecting him to Námo, like how his power was supporting Estë. Írimawen was also supporting her lady, but Manwë convinced her she'd done enough. Easing up her connection with Estë, the Maia swaying in fatigue, almost collapsing. The Elder King guided her to sit down nearby, before returning to the Healer's side.

While he wasn't sure exactly what they were doing, he knew his power was needed to achieve it.

* * *

 **A/N Here's another chapter as promised! And another cliffhanger. Not sorry. I'll post another chapter tomorrow so you won't be biting nails for too long**. **But I'm still not sorry.**


	7. Finding Mairon

**Chapter 7: Finding Mairon**

Námo observed his surroundings.

The landscape was strange, all swirling muted grey mist and undefined shapes. He was on the very edge of Mairon's mind, and there was no sign of its usual occupant. That was not surprising, given the state of his fana. What _was_ surprising was the fact the Vala had been able to enter Mairon's mind so easily. Though his own mental shields were slowly improving, the nature of the shields built into the necklace meant the Maia had to consciously decide to let others in. None could force their way through those shields. Not even a Vala. Aulë had made sure of that. Given the present situation, Námo would have expected those shields to be up, as Mairon fought to protect his mind.

The fact they weren't could mean any number of things. While it made his task of finding the Maia, and bringing his consciousness back to his fana, that much easier, Námo still felt a finger of worry. However, Irmo's voice in his own head moments later helped to sooth that fear.

*It's okay, brother. Mairon has consciously lowered his shields; he is aware of what he's done. His consciousness might be elsewhere, but he did that before he retreated deep into his head. He – he wants you to go after him.*

Námo looked around him with wide eyes, even though Irmo wasn't there.

*How can you know that?*

Irmo's voice was sure.

*Because he's doing what I taught him to do if he ever needed help from us, but was unable to ask verbally. Find him, brother. Only you can find and bring him back. Right now, your bond is possibly all that's keeping him from completely retreating.*

*Are you sure? I don't want to enter his mind without explicit permission. I promised him I never would. To do that, would make me no better than _Him.._.*

Irmo's mental voice was full of pain, but decisive.

* While the fact his mental shields aren't up tells me he wants someone to follow him, there's no way to obtain his specific consent. I don't like it either, but there is no other way to save Mairon.*

Námo knew his brother's words to be true, little though he liked it. Resolutely starting out through the mist, the Vala heading towards the centre of Mairon's mind. He was prepared to retreat if his presence was rejected, and went slowly at first, not wanting to cause more pain for the Maia.

However, not only was he not rejected, but Mairon's mind seemed to welcome him. Námo couldn't detect a hint of fear or distress caused by his presence. In fact, he felt like he was embraced and welcomed. As he passed slowly through areas, they would grow calmer. The greys would slow their swirling, and shapes would become more distinguishable. Nothing returned to how it _should_ be, but it was better.

Feeling encouraged, the Vala stopped and looked around, deciding how he would go about finding his young Maia.

As he thought, Námo took a good look at the landscape of Mairon's mind. Or at least, the bit of it he could see. He knew he was only on the edge of Mairon's mind, in an area the Maia inhabited frequently. The first thing to strike him about it was the haphazardness; there appeared to be no rhyme or reason to the thoughts, feelings and emotions swirling around him. It wasn't as grey as the earlier area, but the few colours visible were dull and muted.

The cabinets and cupboards Irmo had instructed Mairon to build way back in the Maia's first year with them were located here. They held some of the clutter scattered about. However, things were still very hazardous. The question of how Mairon could function with his mind in such a state crossed Námo's mind, but he firmly pushed the thought away. He could focus on things like that later.

Right now, he had a Maia to find.

Carefully avoiding an extremely haphazard pile of memories that suddenly appeared in his path, the Vala noticed a faint track leading out into the swirling greyness. Feeling a faint pull on his own consciousness, the Vala followed it. He'd soon left behind the cosiness and clutter of the Maia's thoughts and memories, finding himself in a desert landscape that was, unsurprisingly, devoid of colour. The path continued through this landscape, and so Námo followed it.

As he went along, the Vala was struck by just _how_ colourless everything was. While grey was the dominant colour, there were other shades of nothingness that Námo had never seen before. The complete lack of colour bought to mind something Mairon had once said to him, after he'd come back from his stay with Nienna that one time.

" _It was nice, but her place is so_ grey _. I do not like grey; it makes me feel lonely and depressed. I like the colour in Mandos."_

At the time, the Vala hadn't given Mairon's words much thought, beyond the obvious meaning. He himself found his sister's demesne to be depressing if he stayed there too long. He was always happy to get back to Mandos with Vairë's colourful tapestries, rugs, blankets and cushions. Now, in the colourless landscape of the Maia's mind, Námo was starting to understand what Mairon had truly meant about not liking grey.

It was not quite all nothingness, however. Here and there, a black skeleton of what looked like a tree appeared, only to be quickly swallowed up again by the grey mist. Námo travelled on the path for what seemed like ages. At some point, he'd fallen into a sort of trance, and so received a shock when he felt another presence abruptly enter his consciousness.

At first, he thought it was Mairon, and so reached out gladly. However, the seething anger that greeted his gentle probing was enough to cause the Vala to recoil in shock. Námo swallowed in dread as he recognised the power. Without making a conscious decision, Námo left the path, heading in the direction the anger had come from.

He didn't have to go far to find the source.

Námo stopped dead, eyes widening, as he took in the _monstrous thing_ before him. It appeared to be a column of seething black cords, reaching up so high, Námo could not tell where the top was. Or even if it had one. The cords were coiling around, hissing in anger, though they didn't venture past a certain point in any direction. The Vala felt horror fill him, as he realised what he was looking at.

Mairon's core. This was Mairon's core. And the reason Melkor's power was in just that area was because of the necklace Aulë had made. Looking at the seething power, the Vala realised there was no way to give Mairon access to even his Maiarin powers. Námo had known the damage done to Mairon was bad. But he hadn't realised, up to now, the extent to which Melkor had bound and corrupted the Maia's will to do his bidding.

The cords seemed to recoil, shrieking, the closer he came to them. Námo stopped a good distance away and examined the bindings carefully. They were a mess, he realised with chagrin. He feared this was beyond even his or Irmo's skill to fix; Melkor had done the job too well. The only Valar who might be able to remove these bindings was Manwë. He was both the most powerful of them all (after Melkor), and the nature of his power was not dissimilar to his brother's. The longer Námo looked at the mess that was Mairon's soul, the more certain he became of this.

Which introduced a whole new set of complications into the equation Námo would have to chew over...

Right now, however, he needed to find Mairon, and convince him to go back with him. He had to be somewhere around. With as bleak and empty as the landscape around here was (apart from the bound core) Námo was surprised he couldn't detect as least a hint of where the Maia might be.

Retracing his steps back to the path, Námo continuing past Mairon's bound core. It took a while, but the Vala noted the landscape around him was slowly starting to change. While before the ground had been flat and grey, there were now fissures appearing in it. These ranged from small cracks, to substantial valleys. Námo had to be careful not to accidentally fall into one, as the path did not always avoid them. As the Vala travelled further along, he instinctively knew Mairon was close by. Even though he couldn't sense him yet, he could feel the bond he shared with the Maia strengthening.

Then, abruptly, the mist ended. Námo found himself standing mere feet back from a sheer cliff face. A small figure stood at the edge of this cliff; below and in front of him, as far as one could see, there was swirling black nothingness. The oppressive silence that had been Námo's companion ever since he'd entered Mairon's mind seemed to deepen in its presence.

The Vala halted.

He'd found his charge.

"Mairon."

The Maia didn't turn, nor even acknowledge, Námo's presence. He was standing with his back to the Vala, staring out into the swirling blackness at something only he could see. He was clad in a grey robe that matched the landscape, and appeared to be even smaller here, in his own mind, then he was when in fana. He was also a lot greyer. The Maia's normal wavy copper hair was practically grey; hanging lank down his back. Námo suspected his skin and eyes would be much the same colour; though he couldn't confirm that with only seeing the Maia's back.

As he watched, Mairon took a hesitant half-step towards the chasm before him. Námo instinctively took a step forward as he softly spoke up.

"Mairon. Little One. You don't want to do that."

Still Mairon didn't appear to hear him. Not daring to go closer, Námo took a deep breath, saying two words.

"My son."

That prompted a reaction. The Maia stirred, his head tilting towards Námo. Feeling encouraged, the Vala spoke again.

"My son. It's time to go home."

At those words, the Maia turned to look at him properly. He didn't look surprised to see the Vala, nor did he show any fear at his presence. As Námo suspected would be the case, his skin was grey, but his eyes were an odd shade of yellow/orange that stood out in an otherwise grey landscape. What struck the Vala the most, however, was the hopelessness and pain in them.

A hopelessness he'd since thought they'd stamped out.

Apparently, he'd been wrong.

"My precious little one, what's wrong?" Námo asked, not game to take another step, and risk having Mairon fall over the edge into the chasm below him. He was already dangerously close to it. Námo instinctively knew if that happened, he wouldn't be able to help Mairon. At his gentle question, the Maia's lower lip started trembling.

"It hurts." Mairon's eyes filled with unshed tears, as he looked helplessly at Námo. "It always hurts. People always hurt me. What do I have to do for them to stop hurting me? I've said I'm sorry."

The sheer helplessness and resignation in his voice shook Námo to his core. He'd thought they were making progress with helping the Maia understand the attitude of others wasn't his fault. Apparently, they were not as far along as he'd thought. Looking calmly at the Maia, Námo answered his question honestly.

"You don't have to do anything. Those who are hurting you are the ones in the wrong. You've done nothing wrong, Mairon. You are my precious son, and many, for reasons of their own, take issue with me loving you. Which I do, Mairon. I love you with all my being; I have since the first time you woke up in my care. I won't hurt you, my Little One. I am truly sorry others have to the point where you felt you had to retreat down here to be safe."

The Maia lowered his head in shame. Here, in his own mind, his feelings and emotions were open to Námo in a way they weren't when they were both in fanar. Not that Námo was prying, but the barrage of emotions he was getting didn't require him to.

"Here isn't safe, nowhere is, but it is away from the pain. At least, it's away from _that_ pain." Mairon looked up at the Vala, seeming to suddenly realise Námo was indeed standing there, and wasn't an illusion. "You've come to take me back, haven't you? I don't want to go back. It hurts too much."

Námo didn't move. Gently, and with infinite patience, he addressed the Maia's question.

"Yes, I have. But it won't hurt when we get back. Estë is making sure of that. As will both Irmo and I. You aren't alone, Mairon. You won't ever be alone again."

The Maia's lower lip quivered even more.

"Promise?"

Námo nodded firmly, holding out his hand in a silent invitation.

"I promise."

To Námo, waiting patiently, it seemed like an age before Mairon moved, thankfully away from the chasm. Approaching the Vala with a good deal of hesitation, the Maia slowly took the hand that was offered. However, as soon as their hands made contact, he all but threw himself into Námo's embrace. The Vala was a bit nonplussed to suddenly find himself with an armful of sobbing Maia, but instantly draw him close, wrapping his arms around the shaking form. Now he had Mairon, he could've thought them both back to consciousness, but hesitated. He wasn't sure doing so wouldn't hurt Mairon even more.

While the Maia had accepted his presence in his mind, Námo wasn't about to start dictating what happened here. That was Mairon's call, and Námo would give him as much time as he needed to decide what to do. Finally, the shaking and sobs seized, and Mairon looked up at the Vala with those odd orange/yellow eyes.

"You came for me. I wasn't sure you would."

Námo hugged him fiercely.

"I will always come for you, Mairon. Have no fear of that."

Though tears were still running down his cheeks, the Maia's voice was steady.

"I thought you would refuse to enter my mind to find me, even though there was no other way. I knew I had no choice but to leave if I didn't want to go mad. The pain was just too great. Even as I was slipping away, I felt your presence, and tried to get back to you. I didn't want to leave once you were there, but the pain was too strong. Leaving my mental shields down, and hoping you would follow me, was all I could do. Even though I knew there was a high chance you wouldn't, because of me not being able to give explicit consent."

Mairon smiled at him.

"You once promised me you would never enter my mind without permission; and I wasn't in a state to properly grant it. Making sure my mental shields were down was the only thing I could think to do to let you know it was okay. Lord Irmo once taught me how to do that if I ever needed help." Mairon looked thoughtful. "Did he tell you about it?"

Námo nodded.

"Yes. He told me you were doing what he'd taught you to do in case you ever needed help, but weren't in a position to give permission."

Mairon smiled into the Vala's chest.

"It worked then. I wasn't sure it would. Having the theoretical knowledge about something is very different from doing it. I'm glad it worked."

Námo kissed his head.

"My brother is very good at what he does, and is also a good teacher."

Mairon nodded in agreement, relaxing into Námo's embrace.

"He is. You both are. If there won't be pain, I'm ready to go home. Carry me? Please?"

With a smile, Námo picked Mairon up, before starting back along the path. The Maia lent his head against him and closed his eyes, trusting the Vala to see them both out. The amount of trust and courage it took to not only allow Námo access to his mind and core, but trust him to get them both out again, was both startling, and humbling for the Vala. There had been times when Námo had felt it was one step forward, two steps back, with teaching Mairon he had nothing to fear from them. While he'd known for some time the Maia trusted _him_ , Námo had been unaware of just how deep that trust run.

Until now.

It wasn't until they neared his bound core that the Maia opened his eyes, shrinking further into the Vala. When that happened, Námo halted, looking down at his son in concern.

"Are you okay?"

Mairon swallowed, looked at his bound core, visible as a dark column in the distance.

"I – I don't know."

Námo followed his gaze.

"He can't control you Mairon. Not with the bindings we've placed on his influence."

The Maia nodded.

"I know that. The reason it's contained in that one area is due to that. Before, the cords spread across this whole region. That's why it is so empty here. It – didn't used to be like a grey desert."

Námo looked around them, understanding dawning in his eyes.

"I understand now why you don't like the colour grey."

Mairon sighed.

"I really don't. Do we have to pass through it all?"

Námo pursed his lips, carefully calculating all his options, before he spoke.

"I can think us back to consciousness, but you might find it disconcerting. Which is why I don't want to do it without your permission. This is your mind; I have no intentions of doing anything here."

Mairon gave him a wobbly smile.

"I knew I did the right thing when I chose to pledge my service to you." Before Námo could respond, the Maia closed his eyes again. "You have permission to think us back, my lord. I just want to be out of here."

After briefly kissing the top of Mairon's head, Námo shifted his focus.


	8. Recovery

**Chapter 8: Recovery**

Námo's eyes suddenly cleared, and he blinked rapidly a few times. Simultaneously, Mairon's fana shuddered. The Maia stirred momentarily, before settled back in Námo's arms. His eyes were still closed, but his breathing was regular and strong, settling into a steady rhythm. Looking across at her brother-in-law in relief, Estë spoke.

"You found him."

Námo nodded.

"Yes."

He didn't elaborate, and none asked him to. Manwë was too busy looking after Estë and Írimawen, and Irmo knew better than to intrude on what had gone down between his brother and Mairon in the Maia's mind. Looking across at Estë, Námo spoke.

"He's physically healed?"

The Valië nodded. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her skin was paler than normal. However, her eyes were bright, and she was smiling.

"Yes. It was difficult, but he's out of danger now. He's not yet completely healed, but there shouldn't be any serious pain issues when he wakes up. The rest will heal in time."

Námo nodded, looking down at the sleeping Maia in his arms, before turning to Manwë.

"I trust you took care of those who did this?"

The Elder King nodded. He looked very troubled.

"Taking them into custody was the easy part. We need to punish all those involved for violating our Peace by attacking someone under our protection. This includes the elves. Which means we'll have to put them on trial, which I don't like doing."

Irmo looked grave, answering before Námo could think up a response.

"We have no choice. You said it yourself; they all violated our Peace. Given what we did last time an elf did that, we cannot be any less strict this time. Though we little like it, we have ourselves set a precedence we must follow through with. Or risk being accused of showing favouritism. Which it would be."

Estë, having finished assuring Írimawen she was fine, and checking her chief hadn't suffered any lasting damage from expanding so much of her energy to help her, now spoke up.

"It would be, and they wouldn't hesitate to protest it. We have no choice, Manwë. We must put the elves on trial, make it very clear to them and others what they did wrong, and why it _is_ wrong. They all need to understand why we are doing this, and it needs to be handled with more eloquence then it was last time." Estë shuddered. "We don't want a repeat of the events that led to the Rebellion."

" _Atar_ forbid." Námo said fervently, the others all echoing his sentiment. After a moment's silence, the Doomsman once again addressed Manwë.

"Where have you had the perpetrators taken?"

The Eldest in the thoughts of Ilúvatar sigh.

"To my palace in Valmar. I've ordered Nehtartúra be kept separate to the elves and have set my best warriors to guard them."

Námo frowned.

"Not that I am disputing the skills of your warriors, but with your permission, I will send Ambariel and Nécanyellë to guard Nehtartúra. I fear he will not be an easy guest, but it won't worry them."

Manwë had to suppress a shudder at the mention of those two Maiar, whose grimness was only matched by Tindómon and Yúcalion. Especially Yúcalion. That Maia was freaky. While Manwë loved all the Maiar, he would be the first to admit that didn't mean he got along with them all. And several of Námo's, especially, seemed to lack even a slight sense of humour, and possessed a grimness that even Námo didn't match. It tended to make the Elder King feel…uncomfortable, if he were in their presence too long.

"Fine by me. I was thinking of possibly even having him removed to Mandos until his trial. The elves, we can deal with. But, I would like to keep Nehtartúra confined with no outside contact until we're ready to deal with him."

Námo nodded.

"I can work with that. Right now, however, I am taking Mairon home. If no one has anything else needing my attention?"

His tone of voice clearly stated he was taking Mairon home regardless. But, nonetheless, Manwë appreciated the show of respect.

"Go, look after your son. My Maiar can handle Nehtartúra until you are ready for him."

Námo nodded in thanks, but, before he could make a move to leave, an indignant hiss, and the feeling of several needles entering his leg, caused him to squeal in shock. At least, that's what Irmo would later claim had happened. Námo would eternally deny he'd ever made such a noise.

"Owe! What the…oh. Marta."

The cat hissed at him again, thankfully withdrawing her claws. Nudging Mairon with her nose, the cat looked very upset and worried. Looking at the other three Valar (one of whom was grinning [Irmo] and the other two who looked vaguely amused) and the Maia (who was watching with wide eyes), Námo sighed.

"I guess there's something else that needs my attention. Yes, Marta? What is it?"

The cat mewed again as she continued rubbing her face on Mairon's arm. While he may not get on well with the cat, it still wasn't difficult to figure out what Marta wanted.

"You want to stay with Mairon?"

The cat mewed again, looking at the Vala balefully as he stood up. Before Námo could say or do anything more, however, Marta proceeded to use his robes to climb up onto Mairon's chest. The Vala's arms encircled his charge, with Mairon's head resting against his chest. Marta settled herself on the Maia's chest, resting her head against his chin and gently purring. Looking helplessly at the others, Námo sighed.

"Anything else, or can I go now?"

Manwë shook his head with a smile, while Irmo tried and failed not to giggle.

"No, I think that's all."

Námo wasted no more time in thinking the three of them back to Mandos. Irmo's gleeful giggles seemed to follow them; Námo briefly entertained thoughts of the things he would like to do to his infuriating little brother. Not that he ever would do any of them. He loved both his siblings dearly; would be lost without them. Besides, he knew Irmo was trying to let go of the stress and strain they'd all just been under. Námo was well aware maniacal giggling was one of the ways his brother dealt with stress.

Arriving in the section of the bathhouse normally reserved for him and Vairë, the Vala was relieved to note Vairë had put out everything he would need in anticipation of their arrival (he'd let her know via Ósanwe Mairon was safe as soon as he'd retrieved the Maia's consciousness). She'd even made sure a hot, lavender scented bath was waiting for them, lavender being Mairon's favourite oil. Gently laying his still sleeping charge on a towel-covered bench, Námo smiled as he gently rested a hand on Mairon's blood-matted hair. Taking a moment simply to reassure himself Mairon was here and safe, Námo began gently undressing him so he could wash off all the blood and grime. A strange-sounding sneeze made him look up with a start, before his eyes narrowed.

"Marta. What do you think you are doing?"

The cat didn't even acknowledge him, continuing to poke around in the pile of scented oil bottles, giving cat-sized sneezes every so often. Námo rolled his eyes, going back to looking after Mairon.

However, moments later, there was an almighty splash and a yawl the likes of which Námo swore made the nearby candles flicker. Next thing, a wet fur ball shot out of Mairon's bath like she'd been burnt, retreating a safe distance to sit on a mat and shake herself balefully. Námo couldn't help rolling his eyes at the disgruntled animal, though he knew he would probably pay for it later.

That cat was pure evil.

"Have you ever heard the saying, 'curiosity killed the cat?'"

Marta ignored him, busy trying to clean herself up. Rolling his eyes once more, Námo left her alone, turning his attention back to Mairon. Honestly, that cat was so weird.

All the commotion had woken Mairon up. The Maia blinked at Námo, still pretty out of it.

"What was that?"

"Marta was poking at things she shouldn't have been, and fell into the bath water as a result."

Mairon was clearly losing consciousness again, even as he spoke.

"She would..."

Námo rolled his eyes.

"Story of her life. Now, let's get you cleaned up and into bed, my little one."

Mairon didn't respond verbally. Eyes closed and breathing steady, he let Námo take care of him as he drifted back to sleep.

…

Námo sat next to Mairon's bed, gently holding the still-sleeping Maia's hand. A now dry Marta laid snuggled on the other side of him; she hadn't left Mairon's side even once since they'd arrived back in Mandos. She'd even seemed to put aside her hostility towards Námo (at least for now), which the Vala was enjoying immensely.

It was now almost two days since the Rescue. So far, Mai showed no signs of waking, apart from the few moments he'd surfaced while Námo was bathing him. Which wasn't entirely unexpected, Estë explained. While she'd healed him, he'd still depleted his own energy. It would take time to recover from the trauma both his fana and fëa had been put through.

*My love. How is he?*

Námo sighed, gently rubbing the back of Mairon's hand with the pad of his thumb.

*He still sleeps, showing no signs of waking. At least his rest is peaceful. After all he's been through, the last thing he needs right now is nightmares.*

Námo felt Vairë's sad sigh.

*Poor dear.*

Before Námo could respond, another mental voice began demanding his attention. Recognising Astarion's stressed-out tone, Námo closed his eyes with a mental groan.

*Excuse me a moment, my love. Duty calls.*

He could feel Vairë's amusement and understanding through their bond, even as she replied.

*Of course, my darling. I'm not going anywhere. You go see what poor Astarion has had enough of. He's being very loud and annoyed.*

Námo rolled his eyes, before addressing his chief.

*Yes, Astarion? What's wrong?*

The Maia's reply was instantaneous.

*If I have to deal with Fëanor and his fussing for one more day, I am going to resign my position and pledge service to someone else. I refuse to do this anymore, my lord! He refuses to listen to me, or do anything I tell him too. He needs a visit from you to set him straight. Not having seen you for this long has convinced him you are avoiding him on purpose, and his ego has grown to match this belief. Please, my lord.*

Námo sighed, closing his eyes. That elf was hell to deal with. He didn't blame Astarion's despair in the slightest. It was true he had been neglecting his duties as Lord of Mandos recently, not leaving Mairon's side ever since they'd found him. He wanted to be there when the Maia woke up, even though there was no indication of when that would happen.

*I understand, my son. It's okay; you don't have to deal with him anymore. I will sort him out. Take the rest of the day off. You've earnt it.*

The Maia's relief was palpable, even through ósanwe.

*Thank you, my lord.*

The connection faded. Námo sighed again, turning his focus back to Mairon. While he knew he had to go sort Fëanor out, he didn't want to leave the Maia alone, not even for a moment. Feeling his dilemma, Vairë spoke.

*I'll stay with Mairon while you go and remind that fëa who is in charge of Mandos.*

Námo sighed.

*Thank you my dear. I hate leaving him, but I have other duties and obligations I've been ignoring for too long. It should not be long, and I'll be back. In the meantime…call me if he shows any signs of waking, won't you?*

"Of course I will, my love."

Námo didn't start when Vairë appeared and wrapped her arms around him. Relaxing into his Love's embrace, the Valar kissed, before Námo squeezed Mairon's hand and reluctantly stood up.

"I'd better go deal with Fëanor. The sooner he's sorted, the sooner I can come back."

Vairë had already taken his place in the chair, covering Mairon's hand with her own. Giving him a gentle smile, she spoke to Námo without turning around.

"Go. We will be here when you return."

Námo reluctantly thought himself away, wishing he could just chuck Fëanor into some hole and forget about him. While he would never do that to any in his care, not even if he had a chance to, it was still a nice fantasy to indulge in.

It took him longer than anticipated to sort out all the problems that had accumulated ever since Mairon had first being abducted. After he'd set Fëanor straight, Námo checked in with several of his Maiar (who had been doing an admirable job of keeping things running in his absence; they were all going to get a big reward for their efforts) to get a report on the state of things. He was with Alassë, when a panicked scream of pure terror touched his mind.

Námo froze.

"MAIRON!"

Abruptly leaving a stunned Alassë, Námo thought himself to Mairon's room. Vairë was trying to sooth the thrashing Maia, without success. Looking at her husband with relief, the Valië spoke urgently.

"He won't wake up!"

In less time than it took to blink, Námo was cradling the Maia in his arms, trying to sooth him with his presence like he'd done so many times before. However, this time, the nightmare was too strong for Námo to overcome. Especially with the Maia's mental shields being firmly up.

*Irmo! We need you!*

The Vala of Dreams arrived a mere second later, immediately placing both hands on the Maia's head.

"Mairon, wake up. It's not real, it can't hurt you. Let it go, little one, and come back to us. You're safe, Mairon. Time to wake up."

As Irmo spoke, his hands began glowing with a soft blue light that soon spread through all his body markings, eventually reaching his eyes. Námo, desperately watching, started at hearing Irmo's voice in his head.

*Talk to him, brother. As far as I can tell, he's partially aware of his surroundings, but can't escape the nightmares grasp. Your voice will help anchor him.*

"Mairon, my son. It's okay, you're safe now. Come back to me, Mairon. Whatever's happening, it's not real. You're in Mandos, safe with me. Come back, my little one. I know you can do this…"

Námo wasn't even aware of what he was saying, keeping up a constant one-sided conversation as he continued hugging his son tightly. Irmo continued glowing blue as he added his own encouragement and expertise, introducing calm and order into Mairon's turbulent mind. Vairë stood nearby; a silent observer to the drama unfolding.

At first, nothing seemed to be working. Mairon had calmed slightly in Námo's embrace, but he was still thrashing and trying to get away from whatever horror he was experiencing. Irmo suspected it was a memory, but was unable to confirm anything with the shields in place. While he could send calm and positivity through the shields, he was unable to see or sense anything that was happening on the other side.

Then, just when Irmo was starting to feel desperate, Námo started singing.

It wasn't a lullaby or any of the usual things Námo was want to sing. It was a Song of Power, full of light and goodness and the triumph of good over evil. Mairon's thrashing, while initially increasing, gradually slowed as Námo's song continued. Námo sung of love and safety, peace and serenity; the power in the song seeming to vibrate through the very fabric of Eä. Irmo felt the darkness of the Maia's dreams recoil, and silently offered his brother support so he could continue singing.

Abruptly, the Maia gave a violent full-body shudder, his eyes opening. For a moment, they were filled with confusion and fear. Then, as Námo continued to sing of love, Mairon abruptly relaxed into his embrace, hiding his face in Námo's chest. The Vala continued his song for a few more moments, before looking down at the now conscious Maia.

"Are you okay, my little one?"

Mairon was crying.

"No. He-he tortured me. With tools me forced _me_ to make."

The three Vala exchanged grim looks (none of them recalled seeing _that_ memory), even as Námo hugged his child tightly.

"That's in the past, little one. It's just a memory; He can't hurt you, nor force you to do anything you don't want to, anymore."

The Maia hiccuped, clutching the Vala even tighter.

"I k-know. B-but it f-felt so r-real."

Irmo was the one to reply.

"They often do, but my brother is right. It's just a memory. A bad one by the sounds of it, but a memory nonetheless." Irmo gently laid a still glowing hand on the Maia's arm, trying to reassure him.

Before anyone could say or do anymore, Námo found his arms were full of thick brown and white fur as well as copper-haired Maia. Marta mewed and pawed at Mairon, clearly agitated. The Maia immediately scooped her up, hugging her to his chest as he cuddled back into Námo. The Vala sent a silent request to the other two, who faded away.

Once they were alone, Námo spoke.

"Would you like to tell me about it? While I won't remove the memory without explicit permission, I can help ease the pain it is causing you."

Mairon swallowed.

"It s-started after Lúthien…"

…

Námo's horror grew the longer the Maia talked. Mairon recounted tortures and horrors he'd experienced, some of which succeeded in making Námo feel sick. Melkor was truly demented and cruel. Námo knew that already. But, the more Mairon talked, the more he realised this was a whole new level of cruelty. The longer he listened, the more Námo realised how incredible Mairon was. To have suffered horrors like that, and have come through them as strong as he was today…

Finally, the Maia had no more to say. Cuddling both him and Marta, Mairon relaxed with a trembling sigh. It was a while before he spoke again.

"You came for me. Twice."

Námo nodded.

"I will always come for you. I've told you that many times, my son."

The Maia's lips twitched.

"I – may be starting to believe it."

Námo smiled. The special smile reserved just for his family.

"Good. And I will keep repeating myself and doing it until you believe it with all your being."

Mairon cuddled into him even more.

"Thank you. And thank you for looking after Marta. How's she been?"

Námo raised an eyebrow.

"It's thanks to her we found you so quickly. She followed you when you were abducted, leaving a trail Oromë was able to follow. She also clawed Nehtartúra's face to bits when she found you. That cat is a vicious little tyrant where your safety and happiness are concerned. She hasn't left your side since."

Mairon's eyes went big as he hugged the cat to him. Looking down at her, the Maia crooned at her.

"You really did that? My clever little girl."

Marta purred happily, rubbing her furry head against his chin. Mairon smiled at her as he continued.

"You're as protective of me as Lord Námo. I wish you would get along with him. It would make life easier."

Cat and Maia stared at each other for so long, Námo started making bets with himself on who would blink first. Then, Marta suddenly scrambled out of Mairon's arms. Rubbing her head against Námo's hand where it was still wrapped around the Maia, she began purring gently. The Vala was so taken back, for a moment, he could do nothing. Then, eyeing the cat carefully (not entirely sure she wasn't about to attack him) Námo stroked her head. When nothing bad happened, his movements became more confident. Marta continued purring gently at the attention, before rubbing her whole body against Námo's side, settling on his lap next to Mairon. Námo looked at Mairon's smile with slight confusion.

"Why's she being nice to me?"

Mairon smiled.

"Because I told her she'd held a grudge against you for long enough."

Námo blinked.

"What did I do to cause that?"

Mairon was trying to keep a serious expression, and clearly failing.

"You insulted her mismatched eyes when you first saw her."

Námo looked at Mairon in disbelief, before turning an accusing gaze to the cat.

"Is that all? You've been terrorising me for months purely because I remarked on your eyes?"

Marta had a victorious air about her, not deigning to answer. Mairon suddenly giggled.

"I think she's waiting for an apology, my lord."

Námo's eyes went even bigger, and he could feel Vairë, who'd been listening in to their conversation through ósanwe (as soon as Námo had re-established their mental connection), trying not to die of laughter. Sending his most foreboding glare to his wife (which only served to make her laugh even harder) the Vala turned to the cat with all the dignity and sarcasm he could muster.

"I am sorry, your highness, if I offended you. That was not my intent."

He could feel the echo of more than Vairë's laugh in his mind, but resolutely ignored his brother. He would do anything for any of his Maiar. If 'anything' meant apologising to a cat, then Námo would do it.

No matter how silly it made him look in the eyes of others. Námo actually didn't care what others thought. His only concern was making sure he did the right thing by those in his care.

"Are we friends now?"

Námo addressed the cat, who purred and rubbed against his hand. Looking down at a giggling Mairon, the Vala raised an eyebrow at them both.

"Does this mean I can stop tiptoeing around corners in fear of my feet being attacked now?"

Mairon's giggle did not dissipate for a long time.

* * *

**Of Course Marta knew what she was doing all along. That cat is probably the smartest person in Valinor. Possible in Middle Earth as a whole, actually.**


	9. More discussions among the Valar

**Chapter 9: More discussions among the Valar**

"The time has come to address the elves regarding the matter of Mairon."

Manwë looked around at Námo, Ulmo and Nienna. The Elder King had dark circles under his eyes, and looked like he hadn't rested since Mairon had first disappeared. Which was over a week ago now. The other three Aratar nodded in agreement at his words. None of them looked happy about things, especially Námo. Manwë sighed, addressing the Lord of Mandos by name.

"Námo. Your brother and Estë are right. We have no choice but to bring those elves to trial for violating our peace. And their friends and family are already noticeably furious about their fellows being locked up by us. My Maiar have reported a lot of negative mutterings against us." Manwë gave another heavy sigh, wearily resting his chin in his hand. "Nothing but the cold, hard truth will impress them. Even Ingwë isn't happy with me right now; he's not visited Taniquetil since news got out about those elves being arrested. And they aren't even Vanyar. I fear we may have erred in waiting so long to address Mairon's return with all the elves. We should have made our stance on him crystal clear from the beginning."

Ulmo raised an eyebrow. The Lord of Waters had shocked everyone when he'd turned up to their meeting unannounced and before it was even due to begin, a grim look on his face.

"Even if we had, it might not have done any good. We made our stance clear to the Maiar several times. Look at what happened there."

Manwë just nodded.

"I know. It's bad enough one of our own seduced and manipulated the Elder into being involved with breaking our Peace by attacking someone under our protection. However, we still must bring those Elder who were involved to trial, and punish them. During that trial, I think would be the perfect time to show them a few hard truths. Especially as I am thinking of making those trials public. It seems the Elder need a reminder of who they are dealing with. As much as I hate doing it…"

Manwë trailed off. Nienna nodded slowly.

"That makes sense. It seems living here with us all these years has taught them nothing." The Valië sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "Where are you planning to hold these trials?"

Manwë smiled grimly, though the pain in his eyes was impossible to ignore.

"The Máhanaxar will be appropriate. They _did_ break our Peace after all."

Námo's eyes lit up, evident even through his mask.

"Will I be allowed to pronounce their Doom to them?"

Manwë gave his brother Valar a withering look that had no effect. Námo didn't even flinch at the other Vala's attempt to intimidate him with his gaze. Manwë quickly gave up trying, even as he answered the question.

"Yes, but only within the perimeters I set up. I know you're furious over what happened, and you have a right to be, but it's not technically the elves fault. While those feelings had to have been in their hearts for them to be seduced to begin with, they were _not_ the Mastermind behind recent events. They'll be punished, but with a severity that fits with their crimes."

Námo didn't look at all happy about that, but ceded to Manwë in good grace.

"Fine. But I hope I'll be allowed a say in meting out punishment. Mairon _is_ mine."

Nienna's lips twitched at the possessiveness in her brother's voice. Námo took his responsibilities to protect those he was charged with the care of _very_ seriously. Frankly, she was surprised he'd consented to even leaving Mairon to come to this meeting. No one else seemed to notice Námo's tone of voice. Manwë was too deep in thought. Ulmo looked troubled at the thought of what some of the Maiar had shown themselves willing to do. Nienna put a comforting hand on his arm (the Lord of Waters was sitting next to her), before she spoke.

"We have erred as well in this, by not realising the sheer level of hate Nehtartúra harboured towards evil." The Valië sighed, fresh tears trickling down her cheeks, evident even through the veil she wore. "The elves are a bit easier to read, though their habit of jumping in completely random directions still gets tiring. I, for one, think this is a good idea. We need to hold a public trial to make it clear to _any_ elf who wishes to come watch why we are doing this."

"Why we are doing what, Nienna?"

Varda appeared in time to hear the last sentence. Having no context, the other Valië looked rather confused. Without a word, Nienna handed her a goblet of wine, indicating an empty chair next to her.

"We need to make it clear to all the elves why we are putting their fellows on trial."

Varda raised both eyebrows.

"That does make sense. Where are you thinking of holding these trials?"

It was Manwë who answered.

"The Máhanaxar."

Varda almost chocked on her wine. She looked disturbed.

"A public trial for an elf in the Máhanaxar? That's what you're planning to do here?"

Námo nodded, his expression carefully blank.

"Apparently."

Varda blinked a few times, processing this information. Finally, she spoke in a pained voice.

"The last time we did that, over half the Noldor accused us of tyranny, rebelled against us, and left Valinor."

Manwë sighed, looking up at them all.

"Yes, they did, and we don't want a repeat of that. But, I like to think we have learnt something from that event. This one needs to be handled with, how did Estë put it? ah yes, more 'eloquently'." Manwë made air quotes as he said those words. "We must make it clear beyond doubt _why_ we're doing this, _what_ the elves did wrong, and _why_ they're being punished in this way. We need to establish that, because they live here, there are certain laws we expect all the inhabitants of Valinor to obey. All the elves need to know without a shadow of doubt what happened to cause this trial, and what the penalty is for these deeds."

Ulmo spoke.

"And just what is the penalty going to be?"

Manwë dropped his head into his hands.

"I have no idea. Last time, we meted out exile for the offending party; look at how well that ended. I do not want a repeat performance of Fëanor."

" _Atar_ forbid." The others all chorused, before falling silent. A silence which stretched on for an uncomfortably long time. Eventually, Varda broke it.

"A suitable punishment will have to be decided by all fourteen of us, I think. And after we have heard the elves give an account of themselves. We cannot deny them that. Even Melkor was not denied that the first time, and his crimes were greater than theirs."

Manwë flinched at her words. The others all looked grim. Nienna spoke softly.

"That they were. That they were."

Without a word, Ulmo refilled his goblet. After he'd downed the whole cup in practically one gulp, the Lord of Waters spoke in a carefully even voice.

"That is the elves sorted, at least for now. What about Nehtartúra and his sister?"

Manwë stirred, blinking rather rapidly as he registered what Ulmo had said.

"It isn't quite the elves sorted, I'm afraid. I would like Mairon to be present at their trial as well." Manwë regarded Námo gravely, and with more than a little compassion. The Doomsman opened his mouth to speak, but a hand gesture from Manwë momentarily stayed his words. "I know you don't want to expose him to them yet, Námo, especially after his recent ordeal, but I hope you will see this is necessary. For all of us."

Námo frowned heavily.

"Perhaps you would be kind enough to explain the reason you want to put _my_ Maia through such a traumatic ordeal?"

Manwë looked defeated.

"Fair enough. I thought, as we are making this a public trial, we should provide all the elves with the means of identifying Mairon for the future. That way, they won't be able to claim ignorance by not knowing who we are talking about. While they shouldn't be attacking anyone regardless, this way they wouldn't be able to claim ignorance. Which some of them may try and do."

Námo's outward expression didn't change. Nienna alone felt him frown heavily through their sibling bond, and spoke to him via ósanwe.

*Manwë has a point, Námo. While the elves shouldn't be attacking anyone, we all know how flighty and fickle they can be. And Mairon wouldn't have to be there for the whole thing. Just long enough so all can see him, and know who we are talking about. And we can do this right at the start of the trial to minimise the time he's needed. It will also put some of the outrageous rumours we have heard about to rest, which can only be a good thing.*

Námo was silent for a moment.

*It makes sense, and is actually one of the better ideas Manwë has come up with. It's just…Nienna. Does Manwë seem a little – off, to you?*

The Valië was silent for a long moment, as she thought that unexpected question over.

*Yes. Now you've mentioned it…he doesn't seem his usual self. He's very…hesitant, to do anything. More so then he ever has been before.*

Námo's mental frown deepened.

*So it isn't just me.*

Nienna was now also mentally frowning as she turned the conversation they'd all just had over in her head.

*No. He isn't acting like he usually does. You're right. Should I say something?*

Námo mentally shook his head.

*Not now. I'll have a chat with him in private at some point. It may be nothing. I hope it is, and I'm just reading into things that aren't there.*

Their whole conversation had taken less than two seconds. Looking at Manwë, Námo addressed the question that had been put to him.

"I see. That does make sense, but I cannot say yes or no to this proposal. It's up to Mairon to decide if he wants to do this, or not. I won't push him to make a decision. Moreover, I expect whatever decision he makes to be honoured. Mairon's mental state is very fragile right now, and he still needs to recover from what happened to him physically. He is at a tipping point, Manwë. And extra care must be taken to ensure he doesn't tip too far. I will ask him, and explain the reasoning behind the request. The rest is up to him."

Manwë nodded in acceptance. He looked vaguely disappointed, Nienna noted with a mental frown. Something was definitely off about him...

"Okay. Let me know what he says as soon as you can. I need an answer soon, so I can put out the word about when the trials are going to be held. We need to give the elves who live at distance enough time to travel here, or more problems will likely arise."

Varda agreed.

"Without a doubt. We must provide at least a week's advance notice, I think. That should be enough time for them to organise themselves, and travel here."

Ulmo spoke.

"Agreed. That should be more than enough time, especially if we keep the weather fair. Naturally at this time of year it's not the best, but I'm sure we can hold off any rain long enough so everyone arrives without being too soggy."

He looked at Manwë while he said this, and the Eldest nodded.

"Yes, we can do that."

He said no more on the matter. Nienna, who'd been silent for a while, suddenly spoke.

"When are we going to bring Nehtartúra and the other Maiar to trial?"

Everyone's expression grew grim at her words. Námo spoke first.

"That is a good question. And, more to the point, what are we going to do with _them_? Nehtartúra, especially, has a lot to answer for."

Manwë sighed again. His face was buried in his hands, and he suddenly looked very old and tired.

"I have no idea what to do with any of them at this point..."

* * *

Námo sighed in relief when he finally returned to Mandos. After the fruitless discussions that had gone on for hours, the Vala was relieved to return to the peace of his and Vairë's domain. The first thing he did upon arriving was check on Mairon, who he'd left with Olórin. Since his rescue, Námo had made a point to never leave the Maia without someone else being there. Just this morning, Mai had finally agreed to see his brother (he hadn't been ready to talk to him before now) but had wanted it to happen in Mandos. Námo had readily agreed, and after waiting a little while to make sure everything was okay, he'd left them to go to the meeting.

A meeting he still had very ambiguous feelings about.

Putting his troubled thoughts out of his mind for now, Námo smiled at the sight greeting him when he arrived in Mairon's room.

Mairon and Olórin were curled up together on Mai's bed, fast asleep. Olórin was spooning his brother, his chin resting on the top of Mairon's head. His arms were wrapped around the smaller Maia. Mairon's back rested against Olórin's chest, their hands entwined. Marta was, unsurprisingly, curled up nearby, also asleep. Though, judging by the ear twitch when Námo arrived, she was aware he was there.

However, she made no move to acknowledge him in any other way, which suited him. While they were kind-of friends now (in that she had stopped making his life hell and have him tiptoe around corners) Námo still wasn't sure how he felt about Marta. However, he was willing to compromise for Mairon's sake, and at least she didn't terrorise him now. Plus, the Maia needed all the love and support he could possibly be given right now. Especially from his chosen lord.

Looking after Mairon, making sure he was happy and safe, was Námo's job. And, so far, he hadn't been doing too well on the 'keeping him safe' department. While Námo knew, realistically, there was no way to have known what was going to happen for sure (even his foresight hadn't shown him anything until events were practically happening) he still felt he could have done better.

 _Should_ have done better.

As he watched the slow yet steady rise and fall of Mairon's chest, Námo reflected on the conversations he'd just had, and especially Manwë's behaviour. Something wasn't right with him, and Námo instinctively knew whatever it was did not bode well for the rest of them.

Manwë would be receiving a visit very soon, so Námo could see if he was okay. He might be their leader, but he still suffered from his own flaws, same as them all. He needed support and love from them (whatever he thought), just as much as they needed it from him. None of them were made to work alone.

Something Manwë frequently seemed to forget, even as he attempted to take the weight of the world solely on his shoulders.

Námo took a deep breath at that thought.

It would be an interesting conversation...

* * *

**Hehehe. *rubs hands gleefully* Things are starting to happen...**


	10. In Nienna's Observatory

**Chapter 10: In Nienna's Observatory**

Námo gently scratched Mairon's scalp. The Maia laid next to him; the crown of his head resting against Námo's leg. Marta was sprawled out on his chest, fast asleep. Her sheer size seemed to dwarf the Maia, especially as Mairon's presence (which had never been very large), had shrunk since his rescue. Though Námo was sure she'd grown bigger in the last month or two, and he was equally sure it wasn't his imagination. Either way, Mairon was cuddling her as he happily drifted, quiet and content. His eyes were open and unfocused, though he was perfectly calm and not asleep. A shiver run down his spine when Námo scratched behind his ear, and he sighed happily, arching into the touch like a cat. The Vala smiled as he continued scratching Mairon's head and neck area; he was rewarded with soft noises of contentment not unlike Marta's deep purrs.

The life-threatening head injury Mairon had received a few days ago (had it really only being just over a week ago?) was almost totally healed, and all the scratches and bruises had long since faded. Though it would take much longer for Mai to regain his strength and stamina. Since first waking after the event, he'd spent most of his time sleeping. Which was to be expected, Estë had explained. His fana had been severely damaged, not to mention the trauma his fëa had gone through. Both needed time to heal. Nothing they did could speed it up with the way his powers were bound. All they could do was provide him with love and care to help the process. Which Námo would've done anyway. Mairon was _his_ , had pledged oath to _him_. And Námo was extremely protective (not to mention possessive) of what was his.

The Vala looked up at the stars shining brightly overhead. They were in Nienna's observatory, star-gazing. Námo had suggested it, wanting to give Mairon a break from Mandos. He also wanted to talk to the Maia about several things, not the least which was the upcoming elven trials they had to hold. Námo wanted Mairon to feel as safe and comfortable as possible for this talk, and had thought long and hard how to best achieve that. He knew Mairon loved the stars, so had finally decided to have this conversation in Nienna's observatory. It had the best view of the sky in the whole of Valinor, and his sister's cushions (while lacking the bright colours of those in Mandos) were also comfortable and plentiful. Nienna would ensure they weren't disturbed, and there was no danger of anyone accidentally overhearing anything they said. Not with how the Observatory was designed.

In short, it was the perfect place for his purposes.

The Vala raised his eyes to look at the stars. For once, his hood was down, so he had an unobstructed view of the night sky. While Námo enjoyed the air of mystery his hoods created, he didn't actually wear them all the time. It wasn't like Mairon hadn't seen him without a hood plenty of times before (he didn't sleep in one, whatever Irmo said. And Mairon had spent plenty of time sleeping in Námo and Vairë's bed since pledging his service to Námo, and was back with them even now) and the Vala didn't want anything that could be a potential barrier between them. Not even something as simple as a hood. His eyes were still masked to some degree, but that was more to protect Mairon. Námo knew his unfiltered gaze was unnerving, even to his own Maiar, who knew him better than anyone else. Save perhaps Vairë or his siblings.

After some hesitation (and a good deal of cuddling and rocking and gentle encouragement), Mairon had agreed to come here with him to talk. Though the Maia was quite content to let Námo make the first move towards talking. Which the Vala was in no hurry to do. They had all night, after all. There was no hurry.

"Comfortable?"

Mairon made a noise of contentment deep him his throat.

"Mmmm."

Námo's lips twitched upwards, as he continued carding his fingers through Mairon's hair.

"I'll take that as a yes. Don't get too comfortable, Mai. Not just yet. We have some things we need to discuss first."

The noise Mairon made this time was not one of contentment, His head shifted slightly so he could look up at Námo, waiting. Deciding to get the hard bits out of the way first, the Vala spoke.

"I need to tell you what's been decided regarding the elves who helped hurt you."

Mairon stiffened, but quickly relaxed when Námo rubbed his neck soothingly.

"It's okay, Mai. None of this is your fault. Nehtartúra has much to answer for, and will be dealt with according to what he's done. Which includes dragging the elves into it. However, because, as far as we can tell, they agreed to his plans, they can't be allowed to get away with it. And, we need to take steps to ensure something like this will _never_ happen again."

Mairon sighed. The look of contentment no longer shone in his golden eyes.

"That would be nice. I'm tired of living in fear of somebody hurting me because of what I am."

Námo's hand stilled.

"And what do you think you are?"

Mairon's answer was devoid of emotion.

"I'm – not sure. I _do_ know I'm not innocent or good, however."

Námo resumed gently stroking Mairon's hair.

"Innocent…no, you're not innocent. However, you _are_ good, Mairon. While you've done things that aren't good, that doesn't make you a bad person. Especially given the circumstances. I think I know you fairly well by this point, and I know you aren't bad. Far from it. You just made bad decisions."

Mairon sighed, but didn't argue, which Námo counted as a win.

"But we've gotten off track. You're not bad Mairon; and don't think you are to blame for any of what happened. The fault lies solely with Nehtartúra. As I said; he has a lot to answer for."

Námo continued stroking the Maia's hair, knowing it was helping keep Mairon relaxed.

"But we Valar will deal with that ourselves. You don't need to be involved. However, Manwë would like you to be involved in the elves trials."

Frown lines appeared on Mairon's forehead.

"Why? And how?"

"Because a statement needs to be made to the elves. And not just to those who hurt you. _A_ _ll_ of them need to know without a doubt you're here under our protection; and to try and hurt you is to directly rebel against _us_. Given events the last time that happened, a message like that will hopefully make any of them think twice before they act in the future."

Mairon swallowed.

"Where do I come in?"

Námo's gaze and voice were gentle.

"Manwë would like you to be present when we make this proclamation. It has been decided to hold an open trial for these elves in the Máhanaxar, meaning anyone can come and watch." Námo ignored Mairon's wince for the moment. "You been there, means all who come to witness events can see you, and receive confirmation you are indeed here on our authority."

Mairon frowned, trying to sit up. However, with a sleeping Marta on his chest, his efforts were futile. He hadn't yet recovered enough strength to move her, and the cat showed no intention of waking up. Mairon soon gave up with a sigh.

"I'm not even strong enough to move Marta. I – I don't know what use I'll be at a trial."

Námo rested his hand softly on Mairon's shoulder.

"Give it time. Both your fëa and fana went through a traumatic experience, and you still aren't well on top of that. Would you like me to move her for you?"

Mairon shook his head.

"No, she'll just get annoyed and scratch you. Just…why do I have to be there for that?"

Námo quickly realised what Mairon was asking.

"So the elves will all know what you look like, and that we take a very dim view of any whom seek to harm you in any way. While we generally take a dim view of anyone whom seeks to harm anyone else, if everyone knows who you are, they can't plead ignorance. If you don't feel you can do this, I won't make you. You don't have to even be there for the whole thing. Just long enough so the elves can see you, and we can lay down the law to them regarding you. You can leave as soon as that's done. But only if you decide you want to do this. I made that very clear when the idea was suggested. The decision lies with you."

Mairon sighed.

"How long do I have to decide?"

Námo ran a gentle hand through his hair.

"We haven't set a date for the trials yet, but it won't be more than a few days. We need to get them out of the way sooner rather than later."

Mairon sighed again. He suddenly looked very tired.

"I just – I just would like some time."

Námo nodded.

"You have at least two days."

Mairon didn't get a chance to reply verbally, as Marta chose that moment to wake up. The cat yawned and stretched while extending all her claws out, causing Mairon to let out a yelped 'owe' as she began kneading his chest with her claws. Purring at him, Marta stopped the action, only to stand up and rub herself all over his face, giving him a mouthful of fur. The Maia coughed and tried to spit it out, while giving the cat standing on his midsection a baleful look.

"What the hell, Marta?"

The cat mewed loudly at him, before scrambling off his chest and sitting down next to him to lick a paw. No longer being pinned down the Maia sat up, scooting around so his back and head were resting against Námo's chest. Námo wrapped an arm around Mai, who relaxed back into him with a happy sigh. After a few moments, he spoke softly.

"I'll tell you my decision by then."

Námo nodded.

"That is fine."

Both Vala and Maia were silent for a time, each simply content to be in the other's company. Námo eventually broke the peaceful silence that'd descended over them with some regret.

"Mai…there is something else I would like to discuss with you."

The Maia tilted his head up to look at him questioningly.

"Yes?"

Námo hesitated for a long moment.

"When I was in your mind looking for you, I had a good look at the damage to your core."

The Maia's gaze dropped.

"I know you did. I felt it."

Námo blinked.

"You could?"

Mairon nodded.

"Yes. I know by the way the evil acted that you had to have." The Maia sighed heavily, his fana slumping against Námo. "It might be bound, but that doesn't mean I can't feel it. All that means is it can't control me, or make me do anything I don't want to. _That_ was made obvious through that other necklace Lord Aulë tried to make. The evil isn't going away until you can remove it."

Now it was Námo's turn to sigh. Wrapping both arms around Mairon, the Vala gently kissed the top of his head before he spoke.

"That's what I wanted to tell you. I had a good look before I found you, and…Mairon. I do not think I can remove the bindings alone. I simply don't have the power levels. Even with Irmo's help, it won't be enough. Morgoth's influence is simply too powerful. The only one who has a chance of being able to successfully remove those bindings is Manwë."

Mairon seemed to shrink even more when he heard that.

"You – you can't?"

Námo closed his eyes, bowing his head.

"No. I cannot. I have the skills and expertise, but I'm not powerful enough. Not by myself."

Mairon was silent for a long time.

"That means I'm going to have to allow Lord Manwë into my mind?"

Námo nodded, arms protectively encircling his young charge.

"At some point, yes. But that point isn't for some time. You're nowhere near strong enough for that yet. Also, just because I can't remove them by myself, doesn't mean I can't help Manwë to do it. I will be there the whole time when we do, as will Irmo."

Mairon looked down. His voice was rough.

"I – don't know if I will ever be strong enough for that. Lord Manwë…he frightens me a little. I know he means well, it's just…"

Mai went quiet, but Námo understood what the Maia was getting at. It was the same thing he and Nienna had noticed. Manwë was not well; that much the Doomsman could tell. What was wrong with him, or even if Manwë realised he wasn't well, Námo didn't know.

So far, he hadn't been able to talk to Manwë in private and find out what was up with him.

Though, given events just before Mairon had been abducted, Námo had his suspicions. They hadn't yet had a chance to finish _that_ conversation either.

But there was no need for Mairon to know that right now.

"There's no need to fear Manwë. He loves you all very much."

Mairon frowned at that. Sitting up straighter, the Maia rotated his torso to face Námo.

"My lord? May – may I confide in you?"

"Yes Mairon. Of course you can."

The Maia hesitated, licking his lips nervously.

"Eönwë didn't seem to think it was a big deal, but…please don't say anything about it to Lord Manwë?"

Now Námo was starting to feel alarmed, but nodded in agreement.

"Okay Mai, I won't say anything directly to Manwë. However, if it is something detrimental to someone's health, I can't promise not to take action to fix it."

Mairon nodded, swallowing nervously.

"Okay. It's just…you know how Eönwë is on Middle Earth teaching the Edain right now?" Mairon paused, waiting for Námo to nod, before continuing. "Did you know Eönwë isn't allowed to wear wings on his fana while he's there?"

Námo blinked, somewhat taken back at this bit of unexpected information.

"Is there any reason for that?"

Mairon shrugged.

"Lord Manwë orders. My lord…I'm just wondering. Eönwë loves his wings. They're a part of his fana like our legs are part of ours. Why – why wouldn't Lord Manwë let him keep them? Eönwë said something about looking like the Edain while he teaches them. But…most of them saw him during the War with his wings. He was the Captain of the Hosts of the West; and was pretty unmissable from what I've heard."

Námo was already planning out the very interesting conversation he was having with Manwë the moment he felt able to leave Mairon alone, and didn't have an answer for the Maia.

"I have no answer for you, Mairon. I don't know why Manwë would do something like that."

Námo's tone had taken on an icy edge without him realising it, but Mairon noticed, and swallowed.

"Please, don't get Eönwë in trouble. I – I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry. Don't punish him for what he said. Please, punish me instead. I can take it, and I'm the one who said –"

Námo wasted no time pulling the trembling Maia into a full body embrace, cutting off his soft pleas. Gently shushing him, Námo pushed the hair away from his face to look in his tear-filled eyes, kissing him on his forehead.

"Shhh. It's okay, my son. Neither you nor Eönwë are going to be punished. Eönwë has done nothing wrong, and you haven't either by telling me this. Do not fret, my little one. All will be well. I promise. I'll find out the why in this situation."

Mairon sniffed, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose.

"No one's in trouble?"

Námo shook his head.

"No. And neither you or Eönwë will get in trouble. I don't understand any better than you why Manwë would do this. Though I intend to find out. I won't let him know how I know though; do not fear about that. This is just one more thing in a long list of things I want to address with Manwë. But all will be well, Mai. I promise you that, but I need you to promise me something in return."

Mairon swallowed. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"What do you need me to promise?"

Námo's whole posture was gentle.

"I need you to promise me you won't fret about this. No one is in trouble," _except possibly for Manwë,_ "and you won't be in trouble. No one should ever be punished for voicing a valid concern over something, even if it may seem trivial."

Mairon looked doubtful. Searching Námo's partially-masked gaze, the Mai was obviously looking for something. The Vala tried to stay as open as possible, and after a long moment, Mairon looked away.

"I – okay. Thank you."

His voice sounded empty, drained of all emotions. Námo silently sighed, thinking a jug of miruvórë and two goblets over from Mandos. When they appeared in front of them, Mairon blinked for a moment, before realising what they were. When he did, his eyes lit up.

"Miruvórë? I can have miruvórë?"

Námo, who was busy pouring the cordial into one of the goblets, nodded with a smile.

"Yes. Here go you; be careful. We don't want to spill it."

Mairon took the goblet almost reverently, happily hugging it to his chest after taking a sip.

"No. We don't want that. It's too yummy to waste. That's another thing Eönwë mentioned."

Námo, who was in the process of pouring his own goblet of miruvórë, momentarily stilled.

"What did he say?"

"Not much. He was just so excited with the skins of miruvórë you sent for us to share around the campfire on our camp-out. He said he's only allowed it at very special occasions; and was surprised to hear we get it so much."

Námo resumed pouring, thankful this information was not new to him. He'd made it clear many times he didn't approve with Manwë's practice of not allowing his Maia to drink miruvórë. In the Doomsman's opinion, they shouldn't be allowed access to it all the time (none of them should be drinking that much of it, Valar included) but once or twice a week as a treat didn't hurt anyone.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but glad you all enjoyed it. Camping trips call for something special."

Mairon nodded happily, still cradling his goblet.

"What's the special occasion this time?"

Námo raised an eyebrow.

"Do I need a reason to spoil one of you?"

Mairon ducked his head. His cheeks looked vaguely pink.

"No. I mean yes. I mean – I don't know what I mean. Forget it."

Námo's lips twitched.

"The first answer was correct. I don't need a reason to spoil you. I do it because I want to. That is reason enough for me."

Mairon's dull eyes shone with happiness, and more than a few tears.

"I've never felt so loved and wanted before in my whole life. I wish I'd chosen to serve you from the beginning, my lord. It – would have been better than what happened."

Námo sighed.

"Looking back, you can say that, but I'm not sure it would have worked out so well back then. You were very different to who you are now. Your life experiences, both good and bad, have shaped you in ways even I cannot begin to fathom."

"That makes two of us then." Mairon sighed. "There are times when I think I'll never truly know myself. I thought I did once, a long time ago, but realise I didn't really. And as for now…I am learning, but frequently feel like I'm fighting a losing battle."

"You've only been here a few years, Mairon. Give it a yéni or three before you decide that is the case. These things take time. And, if there is one thing we Ainur have plenty of, it's time."

* * *

**A/N**

**Enjoy the fluff while it lasts! (eyes off upcoming chapters...)**


	11. A little chat

**Chapter 11: A Little Chat**

"Manwë. We need to talk."

The eldest of the Valar jumped, causing some of the miruvórë he'd just poured himself to spill from his cup. Námo suddenly appeared in front of him, his presence reminiscent of a thundercloud. Placing a hand over his rapidly-beating heart, and taking a few calming breathes, Manwë spoke in a sharp voice.

"Very well. But did you really have to give me a heart attack in the process?"

The Elder King glared at the Doomsman, whose expression and posture gave nothing away. Damn, Námo was good at the blank look. Manwë couldn't discern anything about what he wanted to talk about from just observing him.

"As far as I'm aware, the only people susceptible to heart attacks are the Secondborn. You'll survive. Now, we need somewhere we will not be disturbed to talk."

Manwë began feeling very concerned, but nodded agreeably.

"Okay. Would my study work? I can make sure we aren't disturbed."

"It will."

Quickly downing the bit of miruvórë left in his glass, Manwë led the way. Námo said nothing more, until they were taking seats in the study. The Elder King barely had time to sit before Námo started speaking. The Doomsman wasted no time in getting to the point.

"Manwë. I have recently heard some troubling news regarding you and Eönwë. I normally would not question what you choose to do with your Maia, but in light of recent events..."

The older Vala blinked in surprise as Námo trailed off. As far as he knew, there was no trouble with his chief Maia. But, he knew Námo wouldn't have come to him if he didn't have a legitimate concern about something. The Doomsman never did anything on hearsay after all. If he was here, and worried about Eönwë, then he was sure he had a reason to be.

"What sort of news? Eönwë isn't here at present; he's on Middle Earth with the Edain."

Námo's expression was neutral.

"I know this. I also know you wouldn't let him keep his wings on his fana while he's there. Why? What is wrong with his wings that he cannot keep them?"

Manwë blinked. Out of all the things he'd expected Námo to say, that was not on the list.

"There's nothing wrong with his wings. When he's here, where everyone knows him. Going among strangers, I simply felt it better he looks more like them. And the Edain don't have wings."

Manwë shrugged, not understanding what the big deal was. His reasoning made perfect sense. It wasn't like Eönwë was _forbidden_ from showing his wings. Manwë just preferred he didn't while with the Edain. The Maia had even agreed it was for the best that he didn't, when they'd spoken about it.

Námo's face was expressionless, but his voice had a hard note to it that Manwë did not hear very often.

"If that's your reasoning, then please explain to me why Eönwë was allowed to keep his wings during the War of Wrath when he led our armies on Endórë? He was very high profile then. Everyone at least heard about him, even if they didn't see him. The Edain he is teaching now helped us in the War, losing many of their own in the process. Your reasoning makes no sense, Manwë. Not in the wider context of everything that's happened within the last few centuries."

Manwë blinked again, trying to figure out what Námo was saying. The younger Vala had a point, Manwë eventually conceded to himself, but he still didn't see there was a problem here. However, Námo seemed to think there was. And, as the Doomsman never did _anything_ without a reason, it was in Manwë's best interest to help him understand the situation.

If he wanted the younger Vala to leave him alone, then he definitely had to resolve this concern. Námo wasn't only renowned for only bringing up major concerns, he was also famed for not dropping them until the situation had been resolved to his satisfaction.

Oromë had once referred to him as 'the bloodhound of Mandos' due to his one-tracked mind when it came to things he considered important. Like one of the Huntsman's hounds when it caught the scent of its prey.

"That was different. He was part of the Host of the West, all of who looked alien to those Second Born on Endórë. He wasn't living among them and teaching them. That changes things."

Námo frowned, his heavily masked eyes and deep hood making Manwë feel vaguely uncomfortable for reasons he wasn't sure of.

"I fail to understand how it changes things. Tell me, Manwë. Why did you choose Eönwë to teach the Edain? Why not someone else?"

Manwë raised an eyebrow, somewhat relieved. That was an easy question.

"I chose him because of his position here, and the fact he was the Captain of our Hosts during the War. He was already in a position of authority, and therefore more suited to dealing with the Edain, and earning their respect."

Námo did not look pleased with that explanation.

"From all accounts, he already had that. He earnt the respect of all on Middle Earth during the War. Even among the Elder here in Valinor who did not participate in the War, his name is spoken with reverence. Among those whom were on Endórë, who fought alongside our troops, he's affording a respect normally reserved for us Valar. To some, he's held in even higher esteem."

Manwë just stared at Námo. This information was new to him. He'd had no idea Eönwë was so highly regarded among the Elder residing in Valinor.

"How do you know this, when even I had no idea?"

Námo's smile was frightening.

"I have my ways of finding out information. It wasn't even that hard. The events of the War are still a hot topic of conversation among the Elder. Especially those younger generations born after the Darkening. For them, the War is the most exciting thing that has happened in their lifetime. Those whom weren't allowed to go and fight, especially, see it as some glorified Holy War. And the fact Eönwë was the one leading our forces…they see him practically as a god. But we are getting off track. Manwë. I strongly feel you need to reconsider your reasons for abusing Eönwë in this way."

Manwë sat up straight, a look of absolute horror on his face. Which was rapidly replaced by anger.

"I would never abuse anyone, Námo! Especially not those under my care! I'm not my brother. How could you even say something like that?"

Námo's eyes hardened further.

"There are many kinds of abuse. Physical, mental, psychological, and emotional. It's true Melkor loved all these things, and used them frequently. However, not letting Eönwë keep his wings, a part of his identity and being, through some idea they would interfere with his work, is ridiculous. And falls dangerously close to the psychological abuse category."

Manwë's mouth was opening and closing, no words coming out, as he struggled to understand what the Doomsman was saying. Námo had a cheek! He'd never abused anyone, and didn't plan on starting now! He wasn't his brother! Suggesting Eönwë keep his wings hidden while with the Edain wasn't being abusive; it was being practical.

Wasn't it?

Manwë spoke in a carefully controlled voice, trying to keep his sheer anger from spilling out.

"I fail to see how any of this concerns you, Námo. Eönwë is _my_ chief, _my_ Maia, and therefore under _my_ authority. He may have served you briefly once, but those days are long since over. He's _mine_ now. I will decide what he does and doesn't do."

At those words, Námo's posture changed. While his fana wasn't very large, suddenly his presence seemed to fill the entire room. Though his eyes were still hooded, somehow, Manwë felt the piercing stare. The other Vala's voice had turned glacial, his whole posture dark and forbidding. In that instant, he was every inch the Lord of Mandos. And it was frightening.

"For claiming to be different, you are sounding remarkably like your brother. He once said those exact words to Mairon, right before torturing him with implements he forced the Maia to make."

All the blood drained from Manwë's face at hearing that, and he swayed dangerously. It was a good thing he was sitting down, or he'd likely have ended up in a heap on the ground. Looking at the Doomsman in horrified shock, it was a while before Manwë was able to formulate his thoughts enough to speak.

"He – he truly did that?"

Námo nodded shortly.

"Yes. More than once. I don't think you understand just how much harm he did, Manwë. Not only was he physically abusive, he was very controlling. Rarely letting Mairon sleep or eat or even see to personal needs without his explicit permission. Which he didn't often grant, not towards the end. The last hundred or so years of Melkor's rule on Middle Earth were hell for all involved, though Mairon took the brunt of Melkor's temper." Námo's masked eyes bore into Manwë's. "Not only did he do that, he also controlled the fana Mairon was allowed to wear. Restricting his ability to change forms at will, while ensuring practically every thought Mairon had was under his control. And then acting like it was perfectly normal and acceptable. That Mai should accept it and _thank_ him for it!"

Námo's voice hadn't risen in volume, but from the effect his words had on Manwë, he might as well have shouted it from the rooftops. The Elder King could do nothing but stare at the Doomsman in absolute horror and shock, anger having evaporated as he tried to understand how his own _brother_ could have done something like that. However, Námo wasn't quite finished yet.

"While nowhere near as bad, I see similarities between that, and what's happening here. By not letting Eönwë wear wings on his fana while he is teaching the Edain, you are controlling his fana, making him conform fully to your will. For no real reason."

The Doomsman said no more, simply sitting back, watching the Elder King, his emotionless expression and posture set in stone. Manwë was still pale, struggling to absorb all this information. The more he thought about it, the more he realised he never had a hope of understanding his brother or his actions. Why on earth would Melkor do that to Mairon?

Come to think of it, why did Melkor do everything he did to Mairon? Manwë realised, with shock, he'd never actually given any thought to _why_ his brother would do those things, and not want to change. He'd always thought _he_ must have done something wrong. If he could just make it up to his elder brother, Melkor would go back to how he'd been in their youth in the Timeless Halls. Before even Varda or Ulmo had come along.

Back when it was just the two of them, and _Atar_.

Thinking of what his brother had been like back then, and what he'd done while on Middle Earth, made Manwë's world tip even more precariously to one side. Ever since Melkor's first betrayal, Manwë had been hoping it was all some misunderstanding that would be resolved if he could just figure out what to say and do to persuade his brother to come back. When he'd been brought before them after his time in Mandos, begging for pardon and forgiveness, promising to be good if they would just give him a chance, Manwë's heart had sung with joy.

He hadn't bothered consulting with anyone else about what to do, not even _Atar_ , such was his happiness at the prospect of a chance to regain his brother. For a while, it had been perfect, with Melkor truly seeming to have changed his ways. Manwë had started to regain hope that things would go back to the way they'd once been. For a few brief years, things had been perfect.

Until they suddenly weren't.

Melkor's second betrayal had shaken Manwë to his core, especially the fact his brother's treachery and deception was only revealed to them _after_ Fëanor pulled a sword on his own brother. From that point on, Manwë began to realise _his_ brother had never intended to go back to being good. He'd never intended to help them realise _Atar's_ plan for the world. From the time he'd been brought before them the first time, he'd been plotting to destroy everything they valued.

More specifically, everything _Manwë_ valued. Melkor had played on his emotions to gain access to everything he needed. While several Valar had openly seethed, no one had gainsaid Manwë when he decided to let his brother go free without restrains.

Not even _Námo_ had said anything against it. Surely he had to have known things would not end well. His foresight must've given him _something_ on that day.

"Why – why did you never speak up again my decision to let Melkor go free? Why did _none_ of you ever say anything against it?"

Manwë stared across at the Doomsman. Námo hadn't moved since making his last statement; not so much as one muscle had twitched. His voice when he spoke, however, was a tad gentler then it had been.

"Would you have believed me, or even listened, if I had said anything? In your heart, you'd already decided, before he was even brought out, that you wanted to give him a chance. Nothing anyone said, nothing that was shown to you, would have persuaded you to do otherwise."

Manwë dropped his head to his hands in despair, realising Námo was right. He'd wanted so badly to believe his brother, that he hadn't even stopped to find out how others felt on the matter. Hadn't stopped to look at the situation, and make an informed decision based on the information he had.

In that, he'd failed in his duty to both his fellow Valar, the Maiar, and the Children. He'd failed in his duty to _Atar_ also; this last thought caused a big fat tear to trickle down his face as he struggled to maintain some sort of composure. He'd failed _Atar_.

He'd failed _**Atar**_.

*Nay, my son. You have not failed me. Disappointed me, yes. But not failed. None of you, not even Melkor, have ever failed me. You are incapable of doing that.*

Manwë started at hearing _Atar's_ voice in his head. The gentle words contained such love that the Vala could no longer control his tears. Abandoning all efforts at keeping his emotions in check, Manwë broke down and sobbed. He no longer cared what anyone thought, and, as love enveloped him, the Elder King cried like he'd never done before, finding release in tears he'd suppressed for a long time. _Atar_ held him throughout the whole process, silently offering him comfort and support.

Lost in his misery and grief as he was, Manwë started when another presence entered his consciousness and embraced him. Looking up through tear filled blue eyes, the Vala was started when gentle silver eyes met his. Námo didn't say anything at first, simply holding Manwë, giving him time to compose himself. It took a while, but eventually Manwë felt calmer. He also felt tired and totally empty of emotions. Even trying to think about things about things was almost impossible right now. Cuddling further into Námo, Manwë closed his eyes, letting his conscience drift, feeling more at peace then he ever remembered feeling.

Námo said nothing the whole time. When he eventually did speak, his voice held a calm gentleness Manwë had never heard in it before.

"Shhh. It will be okay, Manwë. We all make mistakes, and the first step to fixing them is to acknowledge we made them to start with. And in this instant, I think, once you are feeling better, you owe Eönwë an explanation or three. How much you tell the others is up to you, but Eönwë deserves to know the full story."

Námo ran a gentle hand through Manwë's hair, and the Eldest melted into the attention. He said nothing for some time, and when he eventually did speak, his voice was hoarse.

"I am afraid of what he will think if I admit things to him."

Manwë didn't know why he was sharing one of his deepest fears with Námo; it just seemed the right thing to do. The Doomsman's expression softened at the admission, and he gentle tilted Manwë's face upwards to look at him.

"Eönwë loves you dearly, Manwë, and looks up to you like he does no other. Talking to him about your mistakes and feelings will not diminish you in his eyes, have no fear of that. It will only make him love you more. The Maia often feel inadequate next to us, as you well know. Letting Eönwë at least know that we're really not so different, will not harm your relationship. It will only enrich it."

"How can you be so sure?"

Námo's expression and posture softened even further as he hugged the other Vala to his chest. Rubbing Manwë's back, he spoke very gently, and with as much emotion as he ever showed outside of Mandos.

"Let's just say I speak from experience. Tell him the truth. He honest with him. I promise, you won't regret it."

* * *

**Well, that breakdown happened a little sooner than what I anticipated it would. Plot Bunnies, what evil plan are you hiding from me now that you need Manwë semi-sane for? *They give innocent looks and bound away***

**I still would like to strangle Manwë with his own hair though. If he would just stop falling apart over how he'd failed his brother (in his eyes), and realise his current behaviour is setting all those around him who remain on the path to destruction...**

***angry muttering***

**For those who've expression concern over Melkor controlling M** **anwë** **, I can safely say he's not. However, he has set certain things in place with the knowledge that** **Manwë** **will probably make a mess of things. Melkor knows how to manipulate too well...**

**Thank you for those who are reading this story, and for the reviews! They're what's pushing me to keep posting, even when it's a struggle.**


End file.
